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POETIC 



CONSIDERATIONS 




BY 



THAD. S. HUTSON 




F. L. ROWE, PUBLISHER 

CINCINNATI, OHIO 

1915 






Copyright, 19 15, by 
Thad. S. Hutson 



OfC 15 1915 

©CI.A416868 



S^birattnn 



To Alice Ionia, my wife, this volume is affection- 
ately dedicated. 

Thaddeus Stevens Hutson. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



Page 

This Book 9 

To Mother 10 

From Los Angeles to Seattle 11 

Bethel Postofeice 17 

The Old Orchard 27 

The Boys' Debate 30 

The Earth 34 

Encouragement 36 

Memorial Day 37 

Jack Simpson 39 

Alta Vista's Cobbler 43 

My Weak Way 45 

Virgie's Kitten 49 

Bygone Days 50 

Courage, Soldier, Fight 51 

Nickel Theaters 54 

Poodle-Dog Women 55 

The Henpecked Husband 58 

The Isley Boys 60 

Slighted Love 62 

(5) 



6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Page 

An Ex-Slave's Religion 65 

Equality 67 

In Memory of Lola Younger 69 

Millennium 71 

The Robin 70 

The Gospel Against Shoddy 78 

The Rooster- Peck ed Wiee 81 

My Likes 83 

Streams and Dreams 85 

Our Prayer 87 

The Boys 89 

Preachers' Wives 91 

Pone Town Cat Fight 93 

Observation 95 

Temperance 97 

Why Should We Fear to Die? 99 

The Wabash Bridge 101 

Let Us Sing 103 

A Grave in Wisconsin 104 

Heb. 13:4 106 

If Only 107 

The Judgment 109 

Old Penix 1 1 1 

Judge Not 113 

K. of P. Bull Wrestler 1 16 

Sunshine and Snow 117 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 7 

Page 

Grover Hurley's Suave 118 

God's Word, the Church and Home 120 

The Red Wheelbarrow 124 

Our Mother • . . . 127 

Considerations 129 

When the Preacher Comes 131 

Considerations No. II 133 

Bygone Christmas 134 

Stringtown Schoolmates 137 

Be Keerfue 138 

Law Shits 141 

The Tattler 144 

I'm Satisfied 146 

Gettysburg Reunion 149 



THIS BOOK 

Why should the public, "hook or crook," 
Be troubled with another book? 
Of all the books you've ever seen, 
No book like this has ever been. 
The public eye, all things in view, 
Will read this book as something new. 

With literary critic's test, 

This book is not among the best; 

But it abounds in sentiments 

That all can grasp with common sense; 

It holds some things unpopular; 

But for its truth you need not fear. 

Emotions of the writer here 

Were written both with smile and tear ; 

His dreams of nature and of grace 

Have found within this book a place ; 

He prays the reader, as he reads, 

May find some precious things be needs 

One quarter of a century 

From State to State, as you can see, 

An active preacher of the cross, 

As counting all things else but dross, 

What he remembered and observed, 

The contents of this book has served. 

(9) 



io POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

And when the writer sleeps in death, 
This book will show the narrow path 
In which he traveled, here below ; 
And all his living friends may know 
The cause for which he suffered so, 
How until death he faced the foe 

The foe of Church, and home, and State, 

The foe with anger, malice, hate ; 

The foe with selfishness and greed, 

The foe with "cliques," and "clubs" and creed 

Of domineering human will, 

This book to all savs, "Peace, be still." 



TO MOTHER 

Camrbidge, Kan., December 13, 1910. 
My Dear Mother: 

I'm glad to know that you are better, and that 
you love and pray for me as you did when I was a 
little boy. I think much of those trying times through 
which we have passed. 

Although you are seventy-six, how glad we are 
to have you with us yet! If you live a few more 
years you and your boy may yet "go home" together. 
Don't you think the folks " over there " would be glad 
to see us? I know that marriages do not count in 
heaven except to be married to Christ and to be 
properly dressed for "the marriage supper of the 



POETIC CONSIDBRATfOXS u 

Lamb/' But you will see by these lines how, today, 
my thoughts dwell with old things, times and friends 
of the past. With love to you I am, as ever, 
Affectionately, 

Your Son, 



FROM LOS ANGELES TO SEATTLE 

In the sultry month of August 

Then I left Los .Angeles; 
Pasadena in her beauty. 

With her balmy, cooling breeze ; 
Long Reach, with her rare attractions, 

And the roaring ocean's wave, 
Where myself with many others 

Have enjoyed its salty lave. 

Such a climate as this country 

Is but seldom ever found, 
Nor for mountain scenic beauty 

In the United States all around. 
Oh, the climbing vines and roses, 

And the flowers 'round the lawn! 
You can scent the sweetest blossoms 

From your "get there" till you're gone. 

Land of oranges and lemons, 
Luscious melons on the vine, 

And the sweet grapes for the table 
And for making sparkling wine. 



12 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

"All aboard! The South Pacific," 
Northward o'er the mountains go, 
Thundering in and out of tunnels, 
Up the incline very slow. 

Down the slope into the valley, 

Green alfalfa, beets and fruit ; 
'Round "the great loop" on to Fresno, 

I Tear the whistle's "toot, toot, toot." 
"All change cars here for Dos Palos," 

In the county of Merced; 
Thousands acres here of wheat fields 

Where the people get their bread. 

"All out here for South Dos Palos," 

Dairy country all around; 
Cows, both Holstein and the Jersey, 

Furnish butter by the pound. 
Broad canals, with sparkling water, 

Irrigate this "grass-land" soil, 
And the farmers make their money 

With but seeming little toil. 

Here the ducks and wild geese gather 

By the river and sloughs; 
Here the gunner is made happy, 

He can shoot just all he choose. 
Thence we go to San Francisco, 

O'er the undulating plains, 
Till we reach "the Earthquake City," 

Fully paid for all our pains. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 13 

Reconstruction is more solid 

Than the buildings of old time, 
And more beautiful — the truth will 

Fit exactly in this rhyme. 
She is making preparation, 

So it plainly can be seen, 
For the world's great exhibition, 

Nineteen hundred and fifteen. 

Thence we crossed to Sausalito, 

On the San Francisco Bay; 
Cool and bracing were the breezes, 

Though it was an August day. 
Then we stopped at Petaluma, 

Noted chicken town, of course, 
(Just a paradise for preachers!) 

Believe me or consider source. 

Then we go to Santa Rosa, 

Beauty! city of the rose; 
Here I met the great man, Burbank, 

Famous for the things he grows. 
Spineless cactus, Burbank "taters," 

Shasta daisies, plums and nuts; 
He is king of horticulture, 

Thinks outside, above old ruts. 

At the apple exhibition 

In the town of Sebastopol, 
Grown without the irrigation — 

Graven steins ; the trees were full. 



i 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Prunes and walnuts, yellow peaches, 

And Sonoma's apricot, 
Grow on all her coast, mount, hillsides, 

Tastes like more, it hits the spot. 

Follow now the Sacramento 

North to "Corning Colony"; 
Here we find the olive orchards, 

With the berries on the tree. 
Almonds, oranges and alfalfa, 

Plums and peaches, prunes and figs, 
Raisin grapes, and for the table, 

Turkeys, chickens, cows and pigs. 

Here each farmer has the water 

From his own well on the ranch ; 
He can pump it soon or later — 

Electric power is his chance. 
Then we went to Roseburg City, 

In the State of Oregon ; 
Saw Mount Shasta, snow-white, pretty, 

Towering in the setting sun. 

Great trees, pine, and fir, and redwood, 

Forest wide on either side, 
Wastes by forest fires and dead wood, 

Waterfalls and mountain glide. 
Here's the State home for old soldiers 

And the young of Cuban war, 
Glad to see again red clover 

In the fields both here and there. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 15 

Stopping on my way to Portland, 

In the city of Oregon, 
On our drive way to the country, 

Hop fields, hop fields, on and on. 
Farmers, digging their potatoes, 

Seem to have a bounteous crop; 
Here I saw the finest cabbage 

On my route at any stop. 

On to Portland next we travel, 

Honor now to Lewis and Clark, 
Who dared pioneer the pathway 

Through the wilderness so dark. 
Paved the way for future progress, 

Which the thrifty white man trod, 
Tried by red men, cleared the forest, 

And with gun and fishing rod, 

Drove the wild beasts from their jungles. 

Made the plains bloom as the rose; 
Fought and triumphed, built this city, 

Surprisingly and rapid grows. 
On to Washington, Seattle, 

Place of wonders half untold, 
Place of business roar and rattle, 

Rich in lumber, grain and gold. 

O'er the Sound to old Port Orchard, 

Eighteen miles by water there; 
Passed a steamer, " Indianapolis," 

Smiling, on my feet to stare. 



1 6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Saw the yard of U. S. Navy — 

Famous vessel "Oregon," 
"Pennsylvania" in her glory, 

And the gunboat "Charleston." 

Crossing o'er the Cascade Mountains — 

Green and beautiful the sight — 
Mount Ranier far in the distance, 

Many peaks were snowy white. 
Here we came to town of Prosser, 

Fruitful valley Yakima; 
All from Sunnyside, Wenatchee, 

Big red apples plenty grow. 

'Tween the mountains of "horse heaven" 

And the hills of rattlesnake 
Lies this fruitful valley Prosser, 

Rich in yield, and no mistake. 
Apples striped red and yellow, 

Veg'tables of every kind, 
Good enough for any fellow, 

Better place is hard to find. 

Now I here must end my story, 
No more words must I rehash ; 

But my trip will reach its glory 
When I see "The Old Wabash." 

ProssKr, Wash., October 12, 191 1. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 17 



BETHEL POSTOFFICE 

Let us take a retrospection, bring the past to present 

view, 
Common things in this collection ever dear to me and 

you; 
By-gone days, before the favors of the handy rural 

route, 
When we got our mail at Bethel 'fore the name was 

changed to Stout. 
When there wasn't any autos nor so many telephones, 
Just to think of it now thrills me to the marrow of 

my bones; 
'Tis a pleasure to remember neighbors of the by-gone 

times, 
And to praise their many virtues in these homely kind 

of rhymes. 

There now come before me faces hid away beneath 
the ground, 

And some names to you familiar in this poem will be 
found. 

Now it seems the first in order of those names we 
would descant 

Is the ex-soldier postmaster, and his name is Noah 
Grant ; 

His own wagon shop and office were both in one build- 
ing then, 
2 



1 8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Till he called the names they waited, both the women 

and the men. 
Mumble was the conversation, but the master's voice 

was clear, 
As he called the names in order, then would come the 

answer, "Here." 

Through the woods, across the meadows, once a week 

and without fail, 
We were sent to get the papers, and whatever other 

mail; 
We would take some eggs and butter, trade some at 

the grocery, 
Buy tobacco, sugar, coffee, or a spool of O. N. T. 
There the smoker and the joker and the neighbor girl 

and boy 
Heard the stories, shared the glories and were filled 

with social joy. 
Some one shouts, " Here comes the mail man," driving 

with a single sack, 
And with practiced air of business turns the bundle 

to unpack. 

" Stop that riot, all get quiet !" Noah Grant's strong 

voice would ring, 
Then he calls out V. R. Garner, followed by Cornelius 

King; 
Solomon Hiatt, Mr. Besser, Uncle Charlie Stevenson, 
Benjamin Jackson, Jacob Miller, all the names of 

Smith and son; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS , 19 

Joshua Null and John Dewitt, and the big Jeff Cheese- 
man, too, 

Hay how, Zimmerman and Haydens, Dotsons, Hutsons 
not a few ; 

Uncle Ben Brown and Jake Isley, and the near-by 
Joseph Quick, 

Nobles, Rosses, Staffords, Mosses, Sam and Charley, 
Tom and Dick; 

Lakes and Curtses and the Findleys, with John Clark 
and Harvey Childs, 

Simpsons, Bruntons, Jones and Snodgrass through my 
memory now files. 

Iven Webb, the farmer-preacher, and the children of 
these men 

Got their mail at good "Old Bethel" when they all 
were living then. 

Those were the days of worm-rail fences and log 
houses not a few ; 

Hospitality was freer then, I think, than now, don't 
you? 

People then were not so clannish, and with pledge- 
bound party clique 

Put no bars against their neighbor by a selfish human 
trick. 

Spelling schools and exhibitions, the revival meetings, 

too, 
Brought those neighbors much together, and their love 

was strong and true. 



20 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

They are gone! those days and pleasures, sad news 

oft my spirit grieves 
Of the death of our old neighbors, thick and fast like 

falling leaves. 
Now comes on a generation strangers both in name 

and face, 
Facing bravely life's new battles, taking their grand- 
fathers' place; 
When they are older and life's troubles write the 

wrinkles on their brow, 
They in that day will remember, just as we remember 

now. 
They will find new ties are forming, and with changes 

ever new, 
They can not forget the old times, nor the friends so 

pure and true. 

For "Old Bethel" we are sighing, for the friendly 

shake and smile, 
By-gone days are dead or dying, but we think of them 

the while. 
Brief and painful is a lifetime, quickly goes the hour 

of joy, 
But we counted not the moments when we were a girl 

or boy; 
But now, since we have grown older, precious are the 

hours we spend, 
Shorter, swifter, bolder, colder, until death will bring 

the end. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 21 

Section II 

Oh, hear those glad voices now ringing, 
The songs of the past they are singing; 

The birds and the bowers, 

The sunshine and show'rs, 
Old Bethel to mind they are bringing. 

We hear the old bass drum, bum, bumming, 
And happy old memories humming; 

With the step full of life, 

To her drumming and fife, 
Such thoughts of "Old Bethel" keep coming. 

When near this old band with it playing, 
We could not hear what we were saying; 

Noah Grant played the fife 

Nearly all of his life, 
With harpers of past he is lying. 

This band could be heard at the rallies, 
With mixture of shouting and sallies, 

When the old G. A. R. 

Were reviewing the war; 
No other band with it near tallies. 

They played "The gal I left behind me," 
And "Yankee Doodle" to remind me; 
The old "Red, white and blue," 
Gen'ral "Sherman's March," too, 
And "Union forever" would find me. 



22 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Noah Grant was a fifer. Now listen, 
He was once a captive in prison ; 

He would whistle the fife 

With an ex-soldier's life, 
The .grit of a soldier was his'n. 

Bill Wilson, the blacksmith, with hammer 

Kept up a continual clamor, 
With a ring-a-ling jing, 
As his right arm would swing; 

No man in "Old Bethel" was calmer. 

He sharpened the plow and the harrow, 
Set tires on log wagon and narrow ; 
As a man of that day 
He would sing, work and pray, 
And look to the eternal morrow. 

I see now the forge and the bellows, 
Where often I stopped with my fellows ; 

Down the hill we would run 

To the office for fun, 
To "Stout" they were ready to tell us. 

Down there where they sold teas and coffees 
They changed the "Old Bethel" postoffice; 

Its name then was " Stout," 

Till the new rural route 
Now brings the mail right to all of us. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 23 

Section III 

There was the graveyard on the hill, 

With melancholy slabs so white; 
The church house, too, so solemn, still, 

Where once we tried to learn the right. 
Among the dead, the living said, 
The very best of earth were laid; 
But whether they were good or bad, 
We knew some neighbor's heart was sad. 

Fond parents buried children dear, 
And children laid their parents here; 
And neighbors left their home away 
To weep with them on funeral day. 
Death seemed to come to ev'ry door, 
The strong and weak, the rich and poor; 
Death changed the whole community, 
For proof of this just go and see. 

The names which were familiar then 
In this graveyard for years have lain; 
A few of us survive to-day, 
But we are growing old and gray. 
Soon we must drink death's bitter cup, 
And by the grave be swallowed up; 
The resurrection day shall be 
Our only hope to set us free. 

"Old Bethel," then, in every sense 

Is not a new experience; 

For every neighborhood, we know, 



24 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Must through the same like changes go. 
And this is why I pen these lines, 
That it may stir the readers' minds. 
All timely things must pass away, 
Prepare for that unchanging day! 



Section IV 

As I now remember the boys and the girls, 

The fields and the woods, with their rabbits and 

squirrels, 
In summer or winter, with snowballs or flow'rs, 
My heart has a longing for those happy hours. 
My mind wanders back to the old country home, 
Where quails in the autumn in coveys would come, 
To pick up the kernels and sing, " Here are we," 
With flutter and buzz to the thicket they'd flee. 

The meadow lark soared with his clear morning trill, 
The woodpecker hammered the snag with his bill ; 
The bluejay was singing his "cheese and cheese 

cheese," 
With feathers all ruffled he'd other birds tease. 
I long for the song of the robin redbreast, 
To peep once more into the oriole's nest. 
If I could go back to my boyhood again, 
I'd greet with great pleasure the twit of the wren. 

I'd love the barn martin more truly, I'm sure, 
He is a bird welcome by rich and the poor; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 25 

As swift as the lightning with fluttering wings, 

He builds his mud nest as he merrily sings. 

The meow of the catbird, the coo of the dove 

In sadness and meekness inviting my love. 

The caw of the black crow, the bird we all know, 

How awkward against the strong wind he would go. 

The buzzard soared high away up in the sky 
So easy and graceful, his wings spread awry; 
He made perfect curvings around and around 
Until he came down to his work on the ground. 
The blackbird with " twitter, oh, twitter-te-whee," 
Just look at them there in the top of the tree! 
A color'd folks' meeting, all singing with glee, 
It seems that no singers could happier be. 

The redbird had music peculiarly his own; 
We always regretted the redbird had flown. 
The mockingbird often would strike the real note, 
As he mocked other birds with his wonderful throat. 
I'd scare them away from their home in the hay, 
The snowbirds which came on a cold winter day. 
There on the wheelbarrow I fed them with meal, 
And with their sweet "tweet" back again they would 
steal. 

The wild geese would cry as they flew o'er our head 
To where it was warmer, for so it was said; 
Then back to a more Northern clime they would go 
As soon as the summer sun melted the snow. 
The music of nature, its golden sunbeams, 



26 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

The hills and the valleys and beautiful streams, 

A grand panorama this view of the past, 

But like "good old Bethel," these scenes can not last. 

The birds of the barnyard, the chickens and ducks, 
The quack and the cackle, and mother-hen clucks, 
The crow of the rooster, the gobble of turk, 
In memory's music are now all at work. 
It tunes up my heart with its various praise 
As I think of bygone and happier days. 
Old " Bethel postoffice," you are gone evermore, 
But neighbors can meet on that ever-green shore. 

There cycles and ages will roll on and on, 
Where God dwells our pleasures will never be done ; 
We'll walk the gold pavement, transparent as glass, 
No sorrowful partings will e'er come to pass. 
From " Stringtown " and " Bethel," oh, may we all see 
Those good old-time neighbors, and there by the tree 
Of life, on the river where clear waters flow, 
Where death, pain or sickness we never can know ! 

Now, " Bethel postoffice," we bid thee farewell, 

The reader may tire of this versatile spell; 

But these impressions which truly appealed 

To those who have rambled your woodland and field ; 

Who noted the changes of fashions and ways, 

But gladly remembers his earlier days. 

God bless the grandchildren, both daughter and son, 

W T ho fill up the places of neighbors bygone. 

Richland, Mo., August 8, 1914. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 2j 



THE OLD ORCHARD 

The old home-place orchard now has all decayed and 
gone, 

But some lonely trees are scattered here and there, 
Standing as if mourning now, so sadly and alone, 

For their comrades of the past, so bright and fair. 

Their shade fresh and cooling, and their bloom with 
sweet perfume, 

And their red and golden apples are unknown; 
From the boughs the robin, and blue jay in his plume, 

Partridge, tomtit, redhead, turtle dove have flown. 

The husbandman paternal, whose voice by death is 
stilled, 
One time pruned and cultivated here the trees; 
The round and perfect apples, which grew just as he 
willed, 
Made a tempting dish for those he wished to please. 

By-gone days so happy, they will ever be no more, 
Precious loved ones now by death have gone be- 
yond ; 
To know they are absent surely makes our heart ache 
sore 
And pleasures dull, of which we once were fond. 

The big copper kettle and a brass one by its side 
Were supported by a pole laid in two forks; 



28 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Patent apple peeler and the slicer were applied ; 
No one idle there, but every fellow works. 

The Vandevere, pippin, and the rambo, too, were 
good, 

Maiden blushes then were sometimes added in ; 
Apple-butter stirrer, with a handle made of wood, 

We stirred it till it was no longer thin. 

No more cider pressing, the old mill has rotted down ; 

Yellow jackets no more swarming in the sun ; 
For vinegar dressing we must now go to some town, 

For the home-place orchard is forever done. 

The hick'ry nut cracking, and dried apples on the 
string, 
Dried beef broiling on the coals before the fire; 
Now and then a riddle, oh, then how we all would 
sing ; 
How I long again to hear that happy choir! 

Oh, the hewed log cabin, with its shedded kitchen 

low, 

And log stable, with their entries long and wide; 

"Home-made" garden paling and rail fences all the 

go, 

And the well-sweep, with its curbing to one side; 

There the peach orchard, and stock yard down the 
road, 
And the pasture, with its blue grass on the west; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 29 

Hewed log trough for water for the cattle, clear and 
good, 
Which we carried, while they drank it with a zest. 

Riding in the bob sled to the meeting miles away, 
Straw and comforts and with boys and girls a-load; 

Listen to their laughter, with their hearts so light and 
gay! 
Frosty sleigh bells jingle, jingle long the road. 

One more district spelling or a literary drill, 
Social parties with their candy-pullings, too ; 

Oh, the absent old home orchard brings a chill ! 
Old Time has changed the old friends for the new. 

Now you're old and feeble, your family in the grave, 
Son and daughter (Thad and Ida) only left; 

Time is swiftly flying, but each moment we must save, 
"Rock of Ages," let us hide within thy cleft. 

Soon death shall overtake us, our friends then for us 
sigh, 
Just as now we sigh for those, our loved and own; 
Homes on earth so cheerful will soon take wings and 

fly, 

Just as the old home orchard now has gone. 

Heavenly Father, teach us, and giude our wayward 
feet 

In paths of virtue, loyalty and truth; 
Earthly homes are transient and our time is very fleet, 

May our children think of Thee while in their youth. 



3 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Thankful for past blessings, house and orchard, barn 
and fruit, 

Friends tried and true we knew in former years; 
Instruction in religion, the hope of heaven to boot, 

When there we'll meet no more with sighs and tears. 



THE BOYS' DEBATE 

Now come and gather 'round me while unto you I 

relate 
How lads at " College Corner " used to hold a boys' 

debate. 
Those orators grew eloquent in their five-minute 

speech, 
With swinging arms and voices loud, the judges to 

beseech. 
"Resolved, the horse to man is much more useful 

than the cow," 
Or such like questions was enough to start the merry 

row. 

Jim 'rose with confidence and said: "I'm on the 

horse's side, 
For he is useful every whit, his hoofs, and hair, and 

hide, 
To drive him to a surrey or to draw a heavy load. 
A cow is just a nuisance when you take her on the 

road. 



POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 31 

A horse is good in races and they use them in the 

war. 
Cows would sure stampede and bawl when they'd 

hear the cannon roar." 

Hen rose. "I'm for the cow," he said, and smack- 
ing loud his fist; 

" The speaker for the horse has sure got things all in 
a twist. 

The cow can live on straw alone through storms of 
every kind, 

And when she's dead her hide will make best leather 
you can find. 

And leather's good for boots and shoes, black snakes 
and harness, too; 

Her meat is good when fried or dried, or made into 
a stew." 

Bill makes a speech, asserting : " I will take the horse's 

part. 
A horse can go a mile or two before a cow can start; 
A horse can trot, or lope, or pace, or under saddle 

rack ; 
He takes you in a buggy with your girl to church and 

back. 
Would not Henry and his girl look nice riding 'hind 

a cow? 
How can they get around these points we're making, 

anyhow ?" 



32 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Joe's time comes next, and now he says : " The cow 

is sure ahead, 
Judging from the speeches made and everything that's 

said. 
A cow is good for butter, and for cheese and milk, 

of course. 
How would you like a piece of beef made out of old 

dead horse? 
The warm milk from 'Old Brindle ' oft has saved a 

baby's life, 
And schmierkase made of clabber's mighty good, you 

bet your life." 

John says : " I give due credit to the horse that plows 

the field, 
And raises all the fodder and the corn the earth can 

yield ; 
He feeds the cow in winter, which so gives the flow 

of milk; 
So on this point we beat you, though your speech was 

fine as silk. 
A cow is not an ox or calf, nor is a cow a steer, 
So they're not in this question we are now debating 

here." 

Steve steps upon the platform, then he makes a grace- 
ful bow. 

Says he : " In this contention I must hold up for the 
cow. 

To< cut out calf and ox and steer I think is a disgrace, 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 33 

For the old cow is the mother of all the cattle race. 
I say before I close my speech and make again my 

bow, 
There hain't a horse on earth can take the place of 

the old cow." 

Tom rises with determined look and wades into the 

fray. 
"The horses pull the hearses and the heavy-loaded 

dray; 
They hasten quickly on the way to catch the early 

train, 
They hurry for the doctor when you have an awful 

pain; 
They transfer from the station in a cab or in a hack. 
A cow can go away from home, but when would she 

get back?" 

Jim concludes: "I now must close this great ques- 
tion in debate. 

The cow is good for many things I hain't time to 
relate. 

Cow horns make good knife handles, and combs both 
fine and coarse; 

No horns, or cheese, or buttermilk is furnished by 
the horse. 

I thank you, ladies, gentlemen, that you your presence 
grace 

This literary. Now the judges will decide the case." 

Daybrook, W. Va., January 17, 191 5. 
S 



34 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



THE EARTH 

" The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," 

Though infidel, skeptic and atheist scoff 

(All the same they would like here forever to stay) ; 

God loaned it to man with interest to pay. 

Its primitive woodlands were beards on its face, 

With valleys it solemnly looks into space. 

Its hills are its wrinkles of laugh at the stars, 

And smiles as she winks at old Saturn and Mars; 

The mountains and oceans are frowns and its scowls, 

And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 

The earth round the sun in a circle will go, 

In one place is sunshine, another is snow ; 

To cheer the despondent she faces the sun, 

She brings on the night when your day's work is done. 

The seedtime and harvest, the winter and spring, 

The summer and autumn in season will bring. 

The rivers and creeks are the earth's "lucky lines," 

Her gulfs, lakes and bays all her freckles combines. 

The falls and the cataracts make up her howls, 

And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 

The gold and the silver, the copper and lead, 
The zinc and the iron are found in their bed ; 
The brass and the copper, the cast and the steel, 
The miner can all kinds of metal reveal ; 
The shale for the pottery, clay for the brick, 
Saltpeter and sulphur, so good for the sick. 



POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 35 

All kinds of mineral medicines found 
Are hid in the mountains and deep under ground. 
The caves make a covert for strange hooting owls, 
And wonderful treasures come out of her bowels. 

There's coal in the earth served as fuel so much, 

It fires up the engines on railroads and such; 

Makes electricity; in smith shop and mill 

It fires up the forge to the workman's own will. 

It. heats up the iron and melts up the glass, 

It melts the gold money to each proper class. 

The gas and the oil in her pocket are found, 

Some men are made rich by a hole in the ground; 

When poverty comes and calamity howls, 

The earth gives them riches from out of her bowels. 

"The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," 

But man is not satisfied here with enough; 

He hoards up his riches and hungers for more, 

And often oppresses the laboring poor. 

Pulls down his old buildings to build greater barns, 

His soul then for carnal security yearns. 

He grows independent, forgetful of God — 

Soul in eternity! his body a clod! 

He begs now for water with other lost souls; 

The earth can not save him, with all in her bowels. 



This old earth will some day be wrapped in a flame, 
Then what will be worth all her treasure and fame: 
The richest of elements in her will melt. 
What purpose of holiness, then, should be felt? 



36 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

All will be consumed in the fiery heat. 

Are we all prepared the great Judge then to meet? 

A new heaven and earth, where righteousness reigns, 

With all the inhabitants free from their sins; 

A home in the new earth for happified souls, 

For she will be purified, surface and bowels. 



ENCOURAGEMENT 
(For Don Carlos Janes' Magazine.) 

When the children learn to walk, 
On life's journey they are bent, 

Or when learning how to talk, 
They must have encouragement. 

If their letters they would learn, 
That they may be competent 

To an honest living earn, 

They must have encouragement. 

Then when later on in life 

On their mission they are sent, 

In the battle and the strife, 
They will need encouragement. 

If they suffer any loss, 

Friends, or health, or money spent, 
Though it may consume the dross, 

They will need encouragement. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 37 

When they weep those bitter tears 
For the Church, Christ's body rent, 

If they stand the world's cold jeers, 
They should have encouragement. 

When they near cold Jordan's wave, 

And their life is almost spent, 
Though they trust in Christ to save, 

They will need encouragement. 

And when the journal's edited, 

In their holy mission pent, 
And their work is credited, 

Why not read " Encouragement " ? 



MEMORIAL DAY 

The boys in blue are old and gray, 
The boys who kept our Nation's day; 
They keep the step with feeble tread 
In mem'ry of our noble dead. 

The dead who in the battle fell, 
When they were torn with shot and shell; 
The dead who double-quick have stepped 
That States in "Union" might be kept. 

The dead who to the prison went, 

In hunger and starvation spent; 

They fought and died, our country saved, 

Set free four million men, enslaved. 



38 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Lacking in duty would we be, 
Since they have made our country free, 
Should we forget their noble deeds, 
Which richly thus supplied our needs. 

Hence in this patriotic way 
We meet on this Memorial Day 
To praise heroic men who fought, 
And human bondage brought to nought. 

And saved the Stars and Stripes from shame, 
And honored Washington's good name. 
With Patrick Henry's burning words 
Their death for liberty accords. 

Remember now the parting time 
Of lovers, sweethearts — how sublime ! 
Their home and country were above 
The tempting scenes of parting love. 

The wife and children left behind, 
Some unknown graves they can not find. 
The thunders of the cannon's groan, 
The glistening steel, the soldier's moan 

While dying on the field alone, 
When moon and stars above him shone, 
While giving out his heart's warm blood, 
His soul departed to his God. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 39 

We cherished in our mem'ry bright 
Those boys in blue who fought the fight, 
And we must, too, our duty dare 
To make our country free and fair. 

Free from saloons and drunkenness 

And every kind of wickedness ; 

Free speech, free press, free schools and free 

To share religious liberty. 

And free from superstitious fate, 
From union of the Church and State; 
And thus in gratitude be true 
To Union boys who wore the blue. 
Pike's Peak, Ind v May, 1914. 



JACK SIMPSON 

"Jack Simpson's dead," 

The message said ; 
It filled my heart with pain 

He hurried back 

To cross the track, 
Was run down by a train. 

His bones were broke, 

He never spoke! 
Take up his mangled form. 

Now he is gone, 

He's not alone, 
But safe from every harm. 



40 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Our neighbor, Jack, 

Will not come back, 
But we'll remember him, 

His laugh and talk, 

His daily walk, 
His hustle and his vim. 

A neighbor true 

To me and you, 
His wagon, fork or plow 

He'd gladly loan; 

Said: "Use them on, 
When I don't need them now." 

The one horse trade 

I ever made, 
A four-year-old horse, too, 

Jack's mare even, 

Only seven — 
When she was twenty-two! 

But not a word 

Was ever heard, 
We still continued friends; 

But I swore off, 

It was too tough; 
Horse trade with me now ends. 

Jack loved a joke, 
And when he spoke 
And said: "Bill Relethford 
Used pepper so, 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 41 

Both high and low, 
On all he could afford," 

Bill answered back: 
"That's what you lack." 
John says : " Bill never swerves ; 

He pepper knows 

On all things goes, 
Molasses and preserves." 

Stand, ride or walk, 

Jack loved to talk, 
A talker, natural born; 

Could talk from morn 

Till day was done, 
Then talk from night till morn. 

A soldier he 

Once used to be; 
He joked on pension day: 
"In war, don't peach, 

I lost my speech, 
And now I draw my pay." 

His talk would be 

So very free, 
Imagination's goods. 
"Thad, how'd you like 

No gravel pike, 
Go jolting o'er the roads; 

With two slow fools 

In shape of mules, 



42 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

An old plank for a seat; 

Below zero, 

No laprobe, too, 
Ten miles to county seat?" 

Now would you think 
Jack used to drink 
And swear most awfully? 
And he was loath 
To quit them both, 
But did it lawfully. 
I was surprised, 
He was baptized; 
"New creature in the Lord!" 
His talk was all 
Of Christ and Paul, 
And of the faithful Word. 

Jack said: "Indeed 

I can not read, 
I'm not a learned man; 

But mercy claim, 

And 'tis my aim 
To do the best I can. 

I hope I won't, 

I do not want, 
At last a hell to see. 

In endless bliss, 
Where Jesus is, 
I hope some day to be." 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 43 

When life shall end 

And God shall send 
Death angels unto me, 

Eternally 

I hope to be 
As surely saved as he. 

Let heaven ring 

And angels sing, 
In glory bright and fair 

I hope to meet 

And loved ones greet, 
And see "Jade Simpson" there. 



ALTA VISTA'S COBBLER 

Let us sing a few sweet strains 
Of the Western Kansas plains, 

And I mean not to be to you a troubler; 
But I know you will take the time 
Just to read this little rhyme, 

Which I write of the Alta Vista Cobbler. 

He is not so tall and straight, 

Nor a pussy heavyweight, 
I am sure no one can be to him a dobbler 

Only one of his own kind 

Will his business closer mind 
Than this nervy little Alta Vista Cobbler. 



44 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

This man mends the people's shoes, 
Sews or tacks them as they choose, 

Fits them all, the straightened foot or hobbler; 
Always busy work complete, 
Half -sole work or heel made neat, 

All are pleased and they bless the busy cobbler. 

Several children to his name 
Adds but to his well-earned fame, 

For not a child among them is a fop, sir; 
They're an honor to their sire, 
Climbing higher up and higher 

To maintain the reputation of the cobbler. 

He our country helped to save, 
Taught the Johnnies to behave, 

Our Nation was compared then to a wobbler; 
Then our subject took his gun, 
Fought and saw the victory won; 

All hats off to this patriotic Cobbler! 

He's my brother in the Lord, 
To the church a faithful guard; 

I wish for him a New Year's turkey gobbler. 
So here is my bouquet 
To the Hoosier, Wilburn Day, 

My friend, the busy Alta Vista Cobbler. 

Lost Springs, Kan., December 18, 1912. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 45 

MY WEAK WAY 

The "Casey Jones" Christian 

Oh ! I feel so much religion 
That I talk it every day, 
But I know for church expenses 

That I can but little pay. 
I have bought a few more acres, 
And the notes I can not stay, 
But I'm following my Savior 
In my own weak way. 
I want you all to know I'm following the Savior; 
I sing and talk and pray of religion every day. 
I want you all to know I'm following the Savior; 
I am following the Savior in my own weak way. 

Oh! the way I make the money, 

You would greatly be surprised; 
But the Lord's day contribution 
I have always much despised. 
I belong to several lodges 

And my dues I have to pay, 
But I'm following the Savior 
In my own weak way. 
Oh, I am strong and true to all my sever'l lodges, 

I am strong and true and my dues I have to pay; 
No member of my crew this duty ever dodges, 
But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 



46 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

To support the gospel preacher, 

Help the widow and her child, 
Has a certain Christian feature, 

To express it very mild; 
And the poor are always with us, 

Though I often turn away, 
But I'm following the Savior 
In my own weak way. 
I know the young and old, big, little, and all ages, 
By their hard work and toil have tried to earn 
their pay ; 
So let the men who preach get out and work for 
wages ; 
Now you see I follow Jesus in my own weak way. 

Oh ! I never mind the weather 

When I have some work to do, 
For I know I'm tough as leather, 

So I always rush it through; 
But I can not go to meeting, 

Windy, snowy or rainy day, 
But I'm following the Savior 
In my own weak way. 
So in my work or play I never mind the weather, 

But when I go to church it must be a pleasant day ; 
In business and my lodge I must keep my ends to- 
gether, 
But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 47 

Oh! I like to hear the organ 

And the singing by the choir, 
And a fifteen-minute sermon, 

A much longer makes me tire; 
But maybe these ki old fogies" 

Surely will die off some day, 
But I'm following the Savior 
In my own weak way. 
I like the gospel truth, but must not be so narrow 
That oysters won't be good should we have a 
church's play; 
I'm in a loyal church, but may not be to-morrow, 
But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 

In the baseball played on Sunday 

I can see but little harm, 
And the show of moving pictures 

Has for me an awful charm; 
Hence I often miss the meetings 

On the Lord's appointed day, 
But I'm following the Savior 
In my own weak way. 
I like to see the world and have a little pleasure, 

Xo use to miss the fun and the frolic on the way ; 

So when I have the time I take some little leisure, ' 

But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 



48 POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Oh! I like to hear good preaching 

When it's not so awful plain 
Against the sects or lodges 

As to fill me full of pain; 
But just let them tell the story 

Of the bright, eternal day, 
It is then I'm in my glory, 
In my own weak way. 
Oh, let them preach the truth, but not against the 
lodges, 
Nor yet against the sects nor the games we like to 
play; 
The preacher who these points in preaching surely 
dodges 
Is the one to make me happy in my own weak way. 

Oh! the Gospel of Christ Jesus 

Is the only plan to save, 
And I know the name of "Christian" 

Is the proper name to have; 
And I know that the "one body" 

Is the only scripture church, 
But if we are not more faithful 
It will find us in the lurch. 
I know that Paul has said there is but "one baptism," 
"One spirit" and "one faith," but "one Father" to 
obey; 
But I would feel the same for any other ism, 
But I'm following the Savior in my own weak way. 
Cincinnati, O., February, 1913. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 49 



VIRGIE'S KITTEN 

Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
I miss him at night when I turn on the light, 

Where once he was curled in the chair; 
I miss his gay romp and his quick-springing jump, 
I see him no more anywhere. 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

His fur, soft as silk, when I fed him with milk, 

I'd stroke from his head down his back; 
In parlor and hall he would play with my ball, 
Too swiftly to keep in his track; 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

Out in the feed house he would watch for a mouse ; 

No rat could escape with his life. 
As swift as the breeze, he could run up the trees, 
A stranger to trouble or strife. 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity ' 

Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity!. 
One dark, stormy' night kitty cried in a fight 

With" a big, mean, old, ugly cat: 
I heard kitty's moans, with his poor, broken bones; 
Oh, killfnafold cat' with" a slat! 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 



5 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Our pretty white kitty is dead ; what a pity ! 

No cat was more bright, with a coat of pure white, 

So far as I ever have known ; 
His bright eyes of pink would so lovingly blink, 
But now my white kitty is gone. 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 
They tell me I cried when our white kitty died, 

I know I was pained in my heart ; 
But now kitty knows not the woes of his foes, 
This makes it more easy to part. 
Our pretty white kitty is dead; what a pity! 

Odessa, Mo., December 14, 1913. 



BYGONE DAYS 

Oh, those bygone days gone by, 
When many joys did multiply, 
When each the other one to see 
Was glad, to share his company. 

Oh, those bygone days! gone by! 

Oh, when will these clouds roll by, 
When we can hear our brother's sigh, 
And weep with him and with him cry, 
And this before our friends all die — 

Oh, when will these clouds roll by? 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 51 



COURAGE, SOLDIER, FIGHT 

Oh, shall we be discouraged if the friends we love 
forsake us, 
Or shall we shrink from duty when the storm 
clouds now arise? 
Oh, must we now give over, when the woes of life 
o'ertake us, 
Or shall we still press onward, toward the mark 
for the prize? 

The God of our salvation still hath wisdom, grace 
and pardon 
To give unto the soldier who will fight the battle 
fair, 
Who never more his heart against the loving call will 
harden, 
And all his holy counsel in its fullness will declare. 

The world knew not the Savior, nor esteemed his 
good behavior, 
But scorned his indignation at the awful sins of 
men. 
Then why is it surprising, if we see the foe uprising, 
With fair and goodly speeches guard the way of 
secret sin ? 

Though it may not be poetic, it is certainly prophetic 
That such deceitful teachers would "make mer- 
chandise of you"; 



52 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

The righteous they outnumber, but their judgment 
does not slumber, 
For in their carnal warfare they would rout the 
chosen few. 

Oh, hear " To arms !" ye soldiers, in the conflict do 
not cower, 
" Principalities and powers" must be met in open 
fight; 
For the weapon of our warfare is the gospel of 
God's power, 
And with Jesus as our captain we'll be never put 
to flight. 

With sin have no alliance, bid the secret cliques de- 
fiance, 
Their symbolic hieroglyphics are but Christless in 
their aim. 
Great synagogues of beauty, built by their ill-gotten 
booty, 
And their mixture of religions, will but make the 
Christian lame. 

That friends misunderstand us should not be allowed 
to strand us, 
Man's "assuming jurisdiction" cause us not to 
quake nor fear; 
God's holy love will band us, with his army safely 
land us, • .. 

Christ, "the Captain of Salvation," makes us feel 
that "God is 'near." 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 53 

Sectarian traditions and unscriptural additions, 
And the vain imaginations of the sordid, fleshly 
mind, 
Conspire against and fight us, in pretending good 
they slight us, 
And it takes a valiant soldier to be bold and still 
be kind. 

How soon the war is ended and with holy ones 
attended, 
Sweeping through the pearly entrance to the city 
of our God; 
To reign with God eternal, and to drink of joys su- 
pernal, 
Will be their sweet fruition who the heavenly road 
hath trod. 

Fight on, be brave, be bolder, never wait till time 
grows older, 
The day of our salvation is "the present," "now," 
"to-day"; 
The loss is to the sinner, but the prize is to the 
winner ; 
Courage, soldier, fight the battle till discharged, and 
get your pay. 
Sumner, III., April, 19 12. 



54 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



NICKEL THEATERS 

Oh, how do you know, whenever you go 
To see moving pictures in a nickel show, 
That you can be sure that all will be pure 
And free from temptations and sins to allure? 
Theatrical plays have very vain ways; 

True servants of God do not act on the stage. 
In manner and dress they surely profess 

Response to the carnal desires of the age. 

Men acting with sleights, with women in tights, 

Are not quite suggestive of morals, you know; 
It purity blights, then where are your rights 

With presence and money to sanction the show? 
The world sees you there, and at you will stare 
To think of you sharing in "Vanity Fair"; 
It seems to one strange to see no great change 
Since you joined the church and your faith did declare. 

Your chances are slim to ever win him, 

Although you may pray and entreat him with vim; 

He's led to maintain "religion is vain," 

From all forms of evil let Christians abstain. 

The devil don't care, for if you are there, 

The theater is never opened with prayer; 

The play never wins a soul from his sins, 

And at your profession the devil just grins. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 55 

Tis better to weep, to lose restful sleep, 

Than to giggle and laugh at the fictitious page; 
Much better a tear or trembling with fear 

Than the charm of the fool who may act on the 
stage. 
Then let us have grace and all keep our place 

With reverence awful, and with godly fear, 
Then true to the Lord, obeying his Word, 

We all can then with him in glory appear. 



POODLE-DOG WOMEN 

Some women dress so awfully, 

I don't see how they can, 
When decent folks do lawfully 

Set forth a better plan. 
If you would know they're up to date 

(I don't say this for fun), 
Just look when they are on the street 

Between you and the sun. 

With dresses cut way down the back, 

And also down the front, 
For length of sleeves in goods they lack, 

A Paris fashion stunt! 
As thin as gauze and tight as skin, 

Too short for any use. 
Against God's will they surely sin 

And common sense abuse. 



56 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

" Sassiety " their talk, oh, my ! 

They all belong to clubs ; 
They're squeezing, as the days go by, 

More money from their hubs. 
A baby is an "awful thing"! 

And little children " brats"! 
And all the love they have they bring 

To poodle dogs or cats. 

But they are great for women's rights, 

And on the platform go, 
And spend the late hours of the nights 

In lectures so and so. 
They take their poodle dogs along 

On trains and in hotels; 
Your stomach surely would go wrong 

To see them cut their swells. 

They kiss the little poodle pets 

And hug them to their breasts; 
They take a napkin while he frets, 

To make his little nest. 
They tie pink ribbon on his neck, 

And on his tail anon; 
It's hard to tell, the fuzzy " trick," 

Which end their heads are on. 

They 'dorn themselves with jewelry, 
Big bracelets and fine rings; 

They paint their cheeks, thus fooling you, 
That they are pretty things. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 57 

They lead their poodles with a chain 

Or carry in their arms, 
Or talk their baby talk so vain, 

To flaunt their doggie's charms. 

They take these poodles for a ride 

In carriage or machine, 
And in the seat right by their side 

The doggie can be seen. 
The poodles do not seem to care 

With what old thing they stay. 
Such dogs need pity, I declare, 

To be brought up that way. 

Oh, for a Eunice and a Lois, 

Such women pure and true, 
To teach the Scriptures to their boys, 

As mothers ought to do. 
Who their good husbands will obey, 

As Sarah, Abraham; 
To see their girls go not astray 

And fall through fashion's sham. 

Who love their children and their home, 

And will not them disgrace, 
And teach the poodle dog that comes 

To keep a poodle's place. 
A Christian mother is the best 

Of all the names on earth ; 
May we by more of them be blest 
And check this awful dearth. 



58 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



THE HENPECKED HUSBAND 

Unfortunate the man 

Who has a scolding wife; 
We know he never can 

Be happy in this life. 
He dreads her mortal frame, 

And crouches at her words; 
She can his name defame 

Like unto vicious hordes. 

His will he dare not speak, 

He must get a permit; 
He speaks, but like a sneak, 

She tells him when to quit. 
He must no secret know 

But to her he must tell; 
But should he treat her so, 

Oh, then she raises ? ! ! 

She talks with snarl and spat, 

Like some old, peevish cat; 
Til warn you he can not 

Do this now or do that. 
He wishes, then, he could 

Spend all his time at lodge, 
For then he knows he would 

All this wild fury dodge. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 59 

She searches through his pants 

And rakes up all his change; 
And go, give her a chance, 

She must have all the range. 
She's all society, 

And fashion is her talk, 
But lacks in piety 

And humble, godly walk. 

There is no government 

Compared to " petticoat " ; 
She, rule or ruin bent, 

Is bound to "get his goat." 
And fortunate is he 

When dead and in his grave, 
He then no more shall be 

A prating woman's slave. 

If she should wed again, 

Oh, may she get a man 
Who will his place sustain 

And follow out God's plan; 
A man with will and nerve, 

As head his house to rule; 
Not merely "Betsy" serve, 

But let her go to school. 

To school to learn her place, 

As modest women should, 
To shun the old disgrace 

When she was cross and rude. 



60 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Her husband then can love, 
She then can him obey; 

Together they can prove 
The strait and narrow way. 



THE ISLEY BOYS 

When I was but a little lad, 

In cold and snowy winters, 
To kindle fire, what time I had ! 

I picked up chips and splinters. 
Too little then to use an ax, 

Light chores would keep me hopping. 
'The Isley boys" (now these are facts) 

Would come and do our chopping. 

Tap" paid them meat or corn or meal, 

Or money if they'd rather; 
A log pile would to them appeal 

In coldest kind of weather. 
Two cross-cut sawed, and one would split, 

Then all three — chips were flying! 
From early morn till time to quit, 

Sundown — the day was dying. 

The Isley boys were good to work, 
They loved each as a brother; 

Hard workers, too, not one would shirk, 
Cared for their widowed mother. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

These Isley boys I don't forget, 

They used to be so handy; 
Shuck corn or butcher, don't you fret, 

The Isley boys were "dandy." 

In summer they would plow the field, 

Grub fence rows free from bushes, 
Cut down the snags, big log heaps build, 

Made piles and piles of brushes. 
They digged across the low, wet farm, 

Most three spades deep the ditches; 
The timber tile was all the charm, 

Such tiling sure enriches. 

They'd pick the apples in the fall 

And hole them up 'fore freezing, 
And all their work which I recall 

To father was well pleasing. 
To Samuel, Marion and Ike 

My compliments in writing; 
Just read or pass it, as you like, 

It is not me you're slighting. 

These Isley boys are men of years, 

Acquainted now with sorrow ; 
They've seen few joys, but many tears, 

May they be glad to-morrow ! 
When their life's sun is sinking low, 

This prayer is from their neighbor, 
That when they from this earth may go, 

They rest from all their labor. 



62 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



SLIGHTED LOVE 

The mother loved her precious child, 

While growing, her love also grew ; 
In sympathy so kind and mild, 

The mother's love is always true. 
She looks upon its innocence, 

And hopes the future may unfold 
A character of moral sense, 

More precious than the purest gold. 

The child by death would take its flight; 

She prays to God: "Oh, spare its life!" 
A faithful vigil through the night, 

She dreams not of its coming strife. 
She smooths the fevered brow aright, 

She can not see the coming day 
When this pure child, so young and bright, 

May go from duty's path astray. 

A boy or girl — oh, wonderful! 

Immortal spirits here to train; 
To teach them in the church or school 

The purest conduct to maintain. 
But, oh! when they do go astray, 

They bring upon their house a cloud; 
Though mother happy was one day, 

Now prays for death, the grave and shroud! 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 63 

The sweetheart loves her lover dear, 

The one that she had almost won ; 
Her heart is made to ache with fear 

Because he loves another one. 
She begs in piteous tones to him, 

And weeps aloud upon his breast. 
He weeps until his eyes grow dim, 

But can not put her heart to rest. 

He marries one that he most loves, 

He sees no more his weeping friend; 
Memories oft his spirit moves, 

Her health declines till death — the end. 
Divided hearts are mysteries, 

Mistakes of youth, how very sad! 
God only knows such histories, 

Only his love can make them glad. 

Husband or wife may prove untrue, 

As many do in this our day; 
Sorrow of sorrows when they do, 

And thus break up their homes that way. 
When they forget the marriage vow 

And flatter others with their words, 
Oh. how true love is slighted then, 

Whose love with loyalty accords ! 

Parents and children are disgraced, 
They never can live down the shame; 

Their confidence has been misplaced, 

They know their loved ones are to blame. 



64 POETIC CONSIDER A TIONS 

The guilty ones unhappy were, 
And retribution then they feared; 

Now they don't realize the "where," 
Because their consciences are seared. 

"No greater love hath man than this, 

That one should die for his own friends;" 
But Jesus died for enemies, 

From glory to the earth descends. 
No class distinction with the Lord, 

He loves you and will save you now, 
But "Whosoever" is the word; 

Oh, sinner, to his mandate bow ! 

How can you slight redeeming love? 

Angels in heaven would rejoice 
And sing around the throne above 

To know you made the precious choice. 
Oh, listen! o'er yon precipice 

The lost souls into hell must move; 
"Gnashing!" "Wrath!" the "Wail!" and "hiss!' 

Because they slighted heaven's love. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 65 



AN EX-SLAVE'S RELIGION 
(Isa. 35:8.) 
Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 
I am happy as a pidgeon 

Which de hawks and owls do miss. 
I am on de road to heaben, 
I be dar when I done liben 
In a wicked worl' like dis. 

Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 

'Ligion dat am undefiled ; 
Oh, de Jordan got a bridge on 
For dis brack and weary child. 

I'se no longer wid dem niggers 
Who at 'ligion laffs and sniggers, 

Sho as Lincum set us free; 
I is shouten now and singen, 
An' my soul wid joy am ringen, 
Jesus am so deah to me. 

I'se no longer cross and snappy, 

'Ligion am a certain cure; 
I'se more loven like an' happy 
Since I know my heart am pure. 

Oh, dis worl' knows little ob me, 
I dun know no fill-o-soff-fy, 

No deep science of de schools; 
But I know I don't trust in em, 
Fo' dis 'ligion am agin 'em, 
5 



66 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Like it am to larned fools. 

It am good to tend de colledge 

And your head wid larnin' fill, 
But much better am de knowledge 

Ob my Sabior's bressed will. 

It am not all in my feelin's, 

Noh my motions strong appealing, 

Fo' I heah de widdah's cry; 
An' my soul am not all dotted, 
Fo' I keep myself unspotted 

From dis worl, in which we die.- 
Fokes, I tell ye no use talkin' 

'Bout your dreams and how you feel, 
Less de narrer road you're walkin', 
Whar no thieves break in nor steal. 

Oh, de debbil wants us slaven, 
An' to keep on un-be-haven 
Till he pull us in de fire; 
But de Lord will 'mancipate us, 
De ole Satan den may hate us, 

But de Lord say, "Come up higher." 
Now no longer serb de debbil, 
Leab yo' sinful ways behind, 
Den sho' as yo' head am lebbel 
Yo' can full salvation find. 

Dis old worl' am full ob shoddy, 
But my soul lubs eberybody, 
And dere's room for ebery one; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 67 

Halleluyah! glory! glory! 
Won't you listen to de story? 
God has giben us his Son. 

Oh, I know I has got 'ligion, 
'Ligion pure and undenled; 
Oh, de Jordan got a bridge on 
For dis brack and weary child, 

Daybrook, W. Va v January 14, 191 5. 



EQUALITY 

Our old Brother Chinks most certainly thinks 

We must not give much to the preacher; 
The preacher must preach and publicly teach, 

Because he's a talented creature. 
No salary goes, for every one knows 

No Christian would preach just for money; 
The audience frets and the preacher forgets, 

For his words do not drip down like honey. 

A nickel and dime won't pay for the time 

To help the poor man in his study; 
His brain works and plans, he toils with his hands, 

No wonder his sermons are muddy. 
His children and wife, the dear ones of life, 

Look to him for "special" provision; 
But when he has failed, his honor assailed, 

He then must be held in derision. 



68 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Some churches will plan and send for a man 

To hold them a protracted meeting; 
They all fix the price so easy and nice 

Before he can give them a greeting. 
They figure no shoes, nor two suits of clothes, 

Nor carfare both ways when he travels ; 
They give him some cash, but think him quite rash 

When he his own story unravels. 

Clothes, 'phone, light and coal and doctor's bills roll, 

Death is no more certain than taxes ; 
Feed, groceries, books, spool thread, eyes and hooks, 

Expense cuts like scissors and axes. 
A herald to roam away from his home, 

He speaks to the rich of their duty ; 
He oft meets with scorn, with feelings forlorn 

He notes they hold fast to their booty. 

The sure gospel plan is for every man 

To bear his own share of the burden ; 
But all who neglect, or duty reject, 

Have trouble in crossing the Jordan. 
"Equality," then, and fellowship when 

We all have a part in this mission ; 
So on with the work, let none of us shirk, 

Thus share in the eternal fruition. 

FairviEw, W. Va., January 14, 1915. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 69 



IN MEMORY OF LOLA YOUNGER 

Dear reader, I will here submit 

Some verses from a sister true 
When I was sick, and thus unfit 
My gospel labors to pursue; 
Sore in lungs, with fevered brow, 

I almost counted death my friend; 
These verses do refresh me now, 

As I approach my journey's end. 
Twenty years have passed away, 

Lola Younger since has died; 
I spoke her praise on funeral day, 

She rests with Christ, the crucified. 

"Beyond the blue and fleecy veil 
The starry-dotted zenith lies, 
The land for which you're longing here, 
Immortal in the skies. 

"Ere long the opening veil reveals 

To thee the land where is no death, 
Where all the faithful ones shall be, 
And breathe immortal breath. 

"A few more years of toil and pain, 
And life as vapor fades away, 
And all the faithful enter in 
To the immortal day. 



7 o POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

"Toil on and save the souls of men 

In patience labor for the Lord; 
Oh, count it joy to preach to them 
The pure, immortal Word. 

"Then rest beyond the fleecy veil, 
Where in repose and grandeur lies 
The land for which you're longing here, 
Immortal in the skies. 
"Bedford, Ind. Lola Younger/' 

Lola, you was then concerned about my health; 
Frigid death has come upon your track by stealth 

And took you first. 
But I never have forgot your kindness yet; 
On that land for which I longed my heart is set, 

I still do thirst. 

Oh, I often think of thee and Leatherwood, 
And of Robby, too, your husband kind and good; 

Your cottage home; 
Of those maple-shaded hills and rippling rills. 
Time that bright spot in my memory never kills 

Where'er I roam. 

A boy preacher was I then, and nothing more; 
I was always happy when I reached your door, 

With much to learn. 
Your words of cheer and your sympathetic tear 
Always seemed to heal and drive away my fear 

At every turn. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 71 

Did enthusiasm ever grow more keen 

Than when the many who came to Christ were seen 

And were immersed? 
The Leatherwood Church was crowded ev'ry night; 
Of love and duty, our privilege and right, 

Were all rehearsed. 

Those bygone days, once so happy, could not last; 
You have missed the many trials, as they passed, 

We all have shared. 
Your poetic soul is now, as once you said, 
In that bright and happy land where are no dead. 

You well have fared. 



MILLENNIUM 

We're gravely told by sages wise, 
The angel coming from the skies 

Is Christ, and he will Satan bind. 
They tell us this is literal; 
That makes the Lord most natural 

An angel! Get it in your mind? 

The thrones and those who on them sat, 
They don't agree; it's tit for tat; 

But other parts are mighty plain (?). 
U I saw the souls." They're certain, sure; 
Are righteous all, no less, no more, 

Who are all resurrected then. 



?2 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

But, then, God's Word is very plain 
That only martyrs who were slain 

Are ever mentioned in that text. 
How can they reason and be fair 
To have all other righteous there? 

I wonder what they'll figure next. 

Those martyrs, those beheaded ones, 
To God were true as his own sons ; 

To them was image worship sin. 
John saw their " souls " ; he did not say 
It was a resurrection day; 

But these new doctors work it in. 

John says not yet one word about 
How bodies from the grave come out, 

Nor how the Lord will stretch "the hour/' 
Nor how amid disease and pain, 
Will glorified in person reign 

One thousand years to show his power. 
(John 5: 28, 29; Daniel 12: 2.) 

Their theory they beg to live, 
Yet we must prove a negative! 

But this is not the worst of all : 
The Lord will here in person be 
A thousand years, where all can see. 

Right here on this old sin-cursed ball ! 



POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS . 73 

The wicked here can multiply, 
Go on increasing, till they die; 

The righteous will be glorified. 
But they can never marry then, 
Make love to women or the men, 

But must in single life abide. 
(Matt. 22: 30.) 

Their home will be a sin-cursed earth, 
Where filthy waters do gush forth, 

Where thorns and thistles will abound. 
Charles T. gives sinners then a chance, 
But others say they must go hence 

Into the lake of fire to drown. 

(They say) The second resurrection shall 
Be those who're raised to go to hell; 

And then they say will come "the end." 
But if you for the truth now thirst, 
John only mentions there the first. 

The fifth verse now to you I send. 
(Rev. 20: 5.) 

Rest of the dead lived not again 

Till none of " thousand years" remain; 

This resurrection is the first. 
Why call them wicked, when the Lord 
There calls them blessed in his Word? 

It's even bad, and worse and worst. 



74 . POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 

But after all their theory 

We can all in this chapter see 

A general resurrection told; 
From hades, sea and grave they come, 
For their life's record see the sum 

In books, then open plain and bold. 

(Rev. 20: 11-15; Matt. 25: 31-46.) 

Plainly implied that some are there 
Whose names are on the pages fair, 

Yes, written in the book of life; 
For some whose names were not there found 
Were to the lake of fire cast down 

Because of wickedness and strife. 

The heavens must the Lord receive, 
If Peter's words we can believe, 

Till prophet's words are all fulfilled, 
And restitution of all things 
The general resurrection brings, 

With death and grave forever stilled. 
(Acts 3: 21; Acts 2: 34, 35.) 

'Tis clear to him who reads and runs, 
As Paul in Thessalonians ; 

With angels, then, our Lord descends 
To punish those who disobey, 
And from his presence drive away, 

Forever there to make amends. 

(I Thess. 4: 13-18; II Thess. 1: 7-10.) 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 75 

The righteous stand at his fight side, 
The righteous shall be glorified; 

They "meet the Lord up in the air, 
So shall they ever be with him." 
I'll never trade this for a whim, 

Or Russell's doctrine, so unfair. 
(Jude 14, 150 

When Jesus comes this earth will burn, 
No more " for sin " shall he return ; 

He then no more will mediate. 
New heaven and new earth shall be 
A dwelling place for you and me, 

A wholly righteous state. 

(II Peter 3: 4-14.) 

What resurrection, then, is told 
In Revelation's symbols bold, 

Where figures are so rife? 
To be consistent it can be 
A moral resurrection, see? 

An inspired view of moral life. 

You ask of me to give the date. 

John does not say. Why should I state? 

Why should I guess at things for you? 
But, plain as day, it is before 
The general resurrection's o'er, 

That's if I have the proper view. 



;6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

If brethren hold another view, 
They're none the less disciples true; 

One body, spirit and one hope, 
Baptism, Lord and faith are one; 
"One Father" of each daughter, son, 
We can against division cope. 

(Eph. 4: 1-6.) 



THE ROBIN 

Oh, Robin, Robin Redbreast, 

First herald of the spring, 
Come once more and break my rest, 

Your morning song to sing. 
Gladly waking from my sleep, 

I listen to your trill ; 
In my mind the contrast keep 

With lonesome Whip-poor-will. 

Hopping, hopping, on the lawn, 

You show your breast of gold; 
Singing at the early dawn, 

The sunrise to behold. 
Swiftly, deftly on the wing 

To where we can not see, 
There, sweet Robin, still you sing 

Your welcome chip-o-ree. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 77 

In the pear tree build your nest, 

And there feed your quartette; 
Teach them note by note your best, 

Four singers in the set. 
Thus your music to the world 

Has brought immortal fame; 
Back and forth on wing you twirled 

And praised your Maker's name. 

All the summer with your song 

And in the frosty fall, 
Cheerful as the days go long, 

We hear your music call. 
Zero comes, we miss you then, 

The winter now is here; 
Soon the spring will come again, 

Then Robin brings us cheer. 

There is some sadness in your note, 

But cheering is your song; 
Have you had your feeling smote, 

Or did you suffer wrong? 
April showers in the sun, 

Spring in full appears ; 
Your sweet music still goes on, 

Singing through its tears. 

Oh, could man be pure and free 

As you. Oh, precious bird, 
Singing loud your chip-o-ree 

Amid the world's discord. 



78 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Unpolluted thou with sin, 
You make our hearts regret; 

Praying on our knees again: 
"Oh, God, our faults forget!" 

You are doing good, my bird, 

Aside from bugs and worms, 
By your singing we have heard, 

And all your other charms. 
Oh, Robin, Robin Redbreast, 

Sweet angel of the tree, 
Thank you. Now my pen may rest 

Oh, sing your chip-o-ree! 



THE GOSPEL AGAINST SHODDY 

(Rev. 19: 8.) 

The same is the spirit of all innovators, 

They come from all classes of vain speculators; 

For God's holy Word and its proper division, 

They subject to change by their own supervision. 

Their creeds are but human, their by-laws no better; 

They claim to extract them from God's holy letter; 

And then they mix with it their own human notions, 

To give to the sects and the world their due portions. 

Their aim is to suitably please everybody; 

But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 79 

If we should quote Paul in his word to Galatians, 
They say we throw clubs at the denominations. 
Just read the first chapter, the eighth and ninth verses, 
And see if the sect preachers will not receive curses. 
In the seventeenth of the sixteenth of Romans, 
" Smooth words and fair speeches " are very bad 

omens. 
If the Church of Christ would be sure of salvation, 
"Come out and be separate" as one "holy nation." 
For sectism smiles if we drink of their toddy, 
For the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 

They say when we censure the use of the organ: 
"The Scriptures are silent." Then why all this jar- 
gon? 
Societies, suppers, Sunday schools, come by voting; 
A preacher consoles them by his sugar-coating. 
We say that God gave us, by his divine power, 
"All things unto godliness ;" then how they look sour ! 
We then read Colossians at two one and twenty; 
They want no more Scripture, for that is a plenty 
To sentence their issues as sensual and soddy, 
For the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 

These lovers of sin on a plain gospel preacher 
Will look with contempt as a horrible creature; 
Because he will preach against their secret orders, 
They hinder and fain would drive him from their 

borders. 
They blackball the Savior, and the sound of the gavel 



80 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Is an echo of darkness, of sin and the devil. 
They're robbers of churches of Christ of their duty, 
To build synagogues and great halls with their booty. 
They forfeit their souls for the good of their body, 
But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddy. 

And compromise preachers, who claim to be loyal, 
Are found in their ranks, as if they were royal. 
They will open their mouths and cry out like thunder, 
To make innovators and sectaries wonder. 
But call their minds back to their infidel brother, 
Who hates the Lord Jesus, but calls God his Father, 
Then they are so mute — oh! they can say "hobby," 
And still pay their dues in their own secret lobby. 
They will fellowship pagan and deistic oddies, 
But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to such shoddies. 

The men of the world, who look on as the scornful, 
Are standing with sinners, nor care for the mournful ; 
Their passions control them, in faith they are wanting, 
And those who are weak in the faith they are taunting. 
But 'tis easy enough for lovers of sin to 
Believe in no heaven they can not get into; 
And natural, too, for sinners to doubt of 
A hell which they fear they can not keep out of. 
" Pure-white linen " can be worn by everybody, 
But the Gospel of Christ is opposed to all shoddy. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 81 



THE ROOSTER-PECKED WIFE 

A woman who a man must keep, 

Who ought to be her lover, 
Who will into her fancies peep, 

But feels himself above her ; 
Who uses her as some old squaw 

To do his dirty labor ; 
No wonder oftentimes the law 

Cuts twain like sword or saber. 

He seeks the honors of his time. 

But honors not his lady; 
He leaves her in a social slime, 

To others tips his cady. 
She feels the slight and often weeps, 

But keeps her home inviting ; 
She wonders where his time he keeps, 

And why his home he's slighting. 

He's so polite to girls and gents, 

To mothers and their daughters; 
He helps from carriage or the fence, 

Or cross small streams of waters; 
But to his wife calls: "Come on, Lib!' 

He's in an awful flurry; 
Says'unto Lib: "None of your jib? 

Yqu know I'm in a hurry." 



82 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Such men should never have a wife, 

Or else be made to support her; 
Treat her as well in married life 

As when he went to court her; 
And not to leave her all alone, 

With babes he has begotten ; 
She's "flesh of flesh and bone of bone,' 

This should not be forgotten. 

He growls at her if dinner's late, 

But often keeps her waiting; 
And though her work is up to date, 

He's always underrating. 
If he could know her aching heart, 

How near unto despairing, 
He'd surely do a husband's part, 

With his old love declaring. 

He spends his time in lodge or club, 

Diseased with social rabies; 
A lion thinks more of her cub 

Than he does of his babies. 
His wife wants sugar or glass jars, 

He whines about expenses ; 
Buys drink, tobacco and cigars 

Like one who lost his senses. 

Poor, broken spirit, kind and mild, 
To live with such a being; 

Was he not father of her child, 
She might from him be fleeing. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 83 

May he be to repentance brought 

And ask to be forgiven, 
Heirs of grace which Jesus brought, 

And both get home to heaven. 



MY LIKES 

I like to hear the twit, twit of the wren, 

I like to hear the cackle of the hen; 

I like to hear the rooster call his cock-a-doodle-doo, 

I like to gather up the eggs, so good for me and you. 

I like to see the swelling of the buds, 

I like to do the planting of the spuds; 

To see a growing garden as I tend it with a hoe, 

There is no better recreation anywhere I go. 

I like to walk the furrow when I plow, 

I like to pitch the hay up in the mow ; 

I like a team of horses that can walk, or pull, or trot, 

So that anywhere you put them they are "Johnny on 

the spot." 

I like to see the growing of the fruit. 

To pluck it from the tree when it may suit ; 

To eat the grapes and berries, and the melons from 

the vine, 
Apples, pears and peaches and the plums, so very fine. 



84 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

I like a jolly visit from my friends, 

No one a better hour ever spends; 

To hear of their successes, their reverses and their 

cares, 
To know that when we're parted we will have each 

other's prayers. 

I like to preach the Gospel to a crowd, 
To make a plea for sinners strong and loud; 
To take their good confession, in the water to im- 
merse, 
Their privilege and duty in God's service to rehearse. 

But when the meeting's over I am done, 

I like to buy a ticket and be gone ; 

I like to see my home again, and loved ones who 

are there, 
To talk, and eat, and sing with them, and bow with 

them in prayer. 

I like to share with them the tears and smiles, 
To plan together for the after whiles; 
And when our work is over, we no longer here abide, 
I'd like then to be buried with my dear ones by my 
side. 

When to the Jordan River I am come, 
I'd like in heaven then a welcome home; 
To bid farewell forever to all sorrow, sin and woe, 
Qn golden streets be singing with the loved ones who 
will §o^ 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 85 

4 



STREAMS AND DREAMS 

The West Virginia streams 
Are like life's varied dreams. 

Among the West Virginia hills 
Are babbling brooks and rippling rills; 
The water, clear as crystal, flows, 
Sparkling and curving, onward goes. 
Now flowing smoothly o'er the stone, 
Then suddenly a change of tone; 
A dash o'er precipice or rock, 
With splashing, roaring in the shock. 

Again so quiet, calm and still, 
It winds around the circling hill, 
Unto the narrow vale below, 
Into a larger stream they flow. 
The stream is deeper, broader now; 
The thirsty horse and sheep and cow, 
Which graze the meadows near its banks, 
Drink, and reflect therein their thanks. 

Its banks are green in summer time, 
Bare and serene in winter clime; 
It tarries not, but onward flows, 
By springing buds or frigid snows. 
Birds warble in o'erhanging bowers, 
While bees are humming 'mong the flowers 
Inspired, the poet notes the chime, 
And writes his feelings into rhyme. 



86 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

It turns the mill to grind the grain, 
It beautifies both hill and plain; 
It sings while running o'er the sand, 
"The waters of that sunny land," 
As clear as crystal from the throne, 
Where "we shall know as we are known. 
So, whether in the plain or hills, 
Praise Go 1 for brooks and rippling rills! 

It frowns when shadows cross it run, 
But smiles and glistens in the sun ; 
It represents the joys of life, 
The music of the drum and fife, 
The dancing of our childhood glee, 
Or old age with its misery; 
The happy days of bygone youth, 
The depth and beauty of "the truth." 

When in the obstacles that rise, 
Which make it dash toward the skies, 
Then fall and on its course pursue, 
'Tis then it acts like me and you, 
When tossed with troubles not a few, 
Our passion and our pride subdue. 
As in its changeful, onward course, 
So are our lives from mouth to source. 

We can not stop swift-flying time, 
Nor make the prose of life to rhyme ; 
But whether in the shade or sun, 
Our race in life must still be run. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 87 

Though rough or smooth, it might have gone 

Like streams of water flowing on, 

It still a duty has performed 

By draining, it the waste transformed. 

Of waters falFn in time of storm, 

It drains the overflowing farm ; 

Here grows the golden grain and fruit, 

Flowers and foliage to suit. 

And as it flows toward the sea, 

Our lives reach to eternity; 

Its waters reach the ocean waves, 

So may we dwell with Christ, who saves. 



OUR PRAYER 

(Time, "America." ) 

Our Father's God to thee 
Preserve our liberty 

And peace of mind. 
Oh, may our land be free 
From war's great misery, 
And with good will to be 

T'ward all mankind. 

Oh, hear us while we plead, 
While other nations bleed, 
'Mid roar of guns; 



POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 

While shot and shrapnel fly, 
While thousands groan and die, 
While mothers wail and cry 
For fallen sons. 

Let monarch's pride go down, 
Let forces break the crown 

Which rules by blood. 
Let love and peace abound 
O'er Europe's bloody ground, 
And service true be found 

To thee, our God. 

God bless our President, 
And those who with him lent 

Their word and power. 
With war in other lands, 
Oh, God, uphold their hands, 
That we in peaceful bands 

Be saved from war. 

Oh, may our country lead 
Against unholy greed 

And every sin. 
Preserve our liberty, 
Let Church from State be free, 
We pray, oh, God, to thee, 

Through Christ. Amen. 



November 4, 1914. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 89 



THE BOYS 

Old Time is here, with laugh and cheer, 

With sorrow and disaster; 
And he has told on lads of old, 

They think now time goes faster. 
And boys to-day, just by the way, 

With future all before them; 
Let us not yet these boys forget, 

Oh, let us not ignore them. 

What can we say? The boy to-day 

Must be the man to-morrow; 
So let their lives be free from strife; 

Past time we can not borrow. 
Environ them with every gem 

Of virtue and of justice; 
They'll read the page in our old age, 

And will not fear to trust us. 

My mind runs back along the track 

To woodlands and wild berries ; 
The old home farm, with orchard charm, 

Peach, apple, plum and cherries. 
To bars that slide, to pastures wide, 

Where once we drove the cattle; 
Where neighbors good so gladly would 

Assist us in life's battles. 



go POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Barefoot we pass o'er the green grass, 

And stepped upon the thistle ; 
We hunted then the chipmunk's den 

And made our hickory whistle. 
With joke and song the creeks along, 

With gun and fishing tackle; 
We bathed and fished just as we wished, 

No sporting laws to shackle. 

We gathered nuts and pulled sweet roots, 

And climbed the bending sapling; 
With agile peace we ran the race, 

In wrestling match were grappling. 
With calves and colts we took the jolts 

In breaking them to halter ; 
Such work or play, from day to day, 

Ne'er caused "the boys" to falter. 

Time with her wings, those childish things, 

Kept fanning from our vision ; 
But though a man, I never can 

Hold childhood in derision. 
And, oh, how sweet 'twould be to meet 

Those boys once more together; 
To see each man, matured, with plan, 

In faith, life's storm to weather. 

But, oh, how sad, some are now dead! 

Their graves o'er earth are scattered; 
We find some men, though happy then, 

With joy and hope all shattered. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 91 

But there are few so brave and true 

Who would not follow sinners ; 
As in the game, they are the same, 

The strong and happy winners. 

Oh, hail the boys with childhood joys! 

Who know not of the morrow, 
Of worldly cares or sinful snares, 

And dream not of their sorrow. 
Let flowers spring and warblers sing, 

And skies be bright to cheer them; 
Give counsel sweet to guide their feet, 

And may no wrong come near them. 



PREACHERS' WIVES 

Do you hear that dove, so lonely, 

Sadly cooing for its mate? 
Do you see its bosom swelling 

With the sadness of its fate? 
Now, just think, can you imagine 

Its dear mate so far away, 
Likewise sighing, sadly sighing, 

Longing for its mate to-day? 

Saw "a sheep led to the slaughter" 
From the nervous, bleating flock; 

Did your heart beat any faster 

When you heard the weeping stock? 



92 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Sold the calf — expense defraying; 

Listen, hear its mother call. 
Hear the horse's anxious neighing 

For companions of the stall. 

If you have a kindly feeling 

For the horse, cow, sheep or dove, 
Let the wives of gospel preachers 

Share your sympathetic love. 
While the preacher on his mission 

Goes from home into the field, 
Sowing seed so free and broadcast, 

Truly anxious for its yield. 

Often he is blamed for failure 

In the meetings he must hold; 
People will not come to hear him 

Through the wind, sleet, rain or cold. 
Then he longs to see his loved ones, 

Often wishing they could come. 
It blows ! It snows ! Hear him praying 

" Bless my lonely wife and home." 

Long may seem the nights, so dreary, 

And monotonous the day; 
Lonesome wife ! with burdens weary, 

While the preacher is away. 
Oh, ye blessed, precious women ! 

Shining be your heavenly crown; 
Heavy here your cross and losses, 

To the world almost unknown. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 93 

God above, who sees in secret, 

All will openly reward 
For privations you have suffered 

While your husband sows "the Word." 
They, true soldiers, "endure hardness," 

For their brethren give their lives ; 
May there fall God's richest blessings 

On all faithful preachers' wives. 



PONE TOWN CAT FIGHT 

In Pone Town, in the West Virginia State, 

One moonless, dark and cold and misty night, 
Some things to you I now wish to relate 

About two cats in banter for a fight. 
Jerry, a neighbor cat, would start the row ; 

He perched himself high on the backyard fence 
And gave an awful, hideous meow-oh wow! 

And then old Tom he growled in self-defense. 

Old Tom was hid and sheltered by the porch, 

But he was not afraid in any sense ; 
In the dark, his eyes were flaming like a torch 

At Jerry, sitting there upon the fence. 
Old Jerry bowed his back, and bluffed and dared; 

Old Tom replied with spit, and snarled and snapped I 
But neither cat seemed at the other scared; 

Tom seemed to think that he was handicapped. 
At last old Jerry ventured to the ground, 

Old Tom with wrath gave, trim, an awful scream; 



94 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

The noise was heard in every part of town, 
In darkness four cat eyes were all a-gleam. 

Jerry says : " I dare you now to come out here," 
While back and forth he dodged in front of Tom; 

Said Tom: "I'm coming now, the coast is clear." 
With awful indignation he would come. 

Then came the unwelcome music of the night; 

They scratched and screamed and fought each other 
till 
Said Wilbert Moore: "That is an awful fight; 

If they don't quit I'll have them both to kill." 
But they continued with their yell and roar, 

No sleep until this war is at an end. 
They bumped their heads against the kitchen floor, 

Their screams the stillness of the night did rend. 

Their painful ouch, oh wow-ee wow-ee yow ! 

You'd better quit your biting me, ne-ow ; 
You was the first to dare me, any he-ow — 

A. E. I. O. U. W. Me yow ! 
Wilbert, with gun, into the darkness ran ; 

Bang ! went the gun, and all was quiet then ; 
Back against the hills the echoes rang, 

Until the night was still as death again. 

The shot scattered, so also did the cats; 

Unceremoniously they depart ; 
The fight was over 'fore you could say "Scats!" 

To quarrel so is never very smart. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 95 

Let us from this one shot a lesson take, 
And never quarrel with our neighbor here; 

For sudden judgment may this old earth shake, 
Then we could never read our title clear. 



OBSERVATION 

Oh, where is the gospel preacher, 

In his missionary zeal, 
Who would go to " every creature" 

With his cry of "woe or weal," 
All concerning the eternal, 

Or the last of human state; 
That will find the anxious hearer 

Who will gladly for him wait? 

Who will crowd around with hunger 

For the precious bread of life, 
And will seek for help and refuge 

From life's woe and bitter strife? 
The great multitudes, where are they 

When he lifts his earnest voice? 
Ah! business, worldly pleasure, money, 

Are the chief of human choice. 

As we travel through the valley, 
O'er the mountain, hills and rough, 

Men will smoke and chew tobacco, 
And some women will use snuff. 



96 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Some "hain't" time to read the Bible, 
But they study fashion plates; 

Spend their moments, worse than idle, 
Whirling 'round on roller skates; 

Or they witness brutal football, 

To the baseball they must go; 
Every worldly exhibition, 

Every passing nickel show. 
Many rings upon their fingers, 

Chains and bracelets for display; 
Watch and locket gain attention, 

Not to keep the time of day. 

Boys and girls are ever training 

How to play the basketball ; 
But they care not for the meaning 

Of the preacher's gospel call. 
They are eager in the contest, 

Just to win a crowd's applause — 
What care they about religion, 

Or for Christ's most holy laws? 

Girls are taught the tango dancing, 

How to act upon the stage; 
Trained to frolic and to revel — 

Entertainment's all the rage. 
Boys and girls will read cheap stories, 

And their pillow on their bed 
Has a ten-cent novel under, 

And on top a ten-cent head. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 97 

Only few the " strait way" travel — 

Jesus said 'twould thus be so ; 
Multitudes the broad road thronging, 

On the downward slope they go. 
We should never be discouraged 

While God's holy will we do, 
But rejoice we're counted worthy 

To walk with the chosen few. 

If the way we go be crowded, 

We may well begin to doubt 
That we walk the way of wisdom, 

And had better turn about, 
Seek the Lord, who will have mercy, 

And the pardon of our God; 
Leave vain thoughts and ways behind us 

For the way the faithful trod. 



TEMPERANCE 

When Rosa died 
The neighbors cried, 
For she was very good and kind. 
In her short life was found no guilt 
She saw the angels on her quilt 
The night she died ! 
And I have tried 
To ever keep these things in mind. 

7 



98 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

When Rosa died, 
Just by her side 
Her father stood and wept aloud; 
It seemed to bring him to his mind, 
For he had been very kind 
Before she died; 
But he had tried 
To often make her life a cloud. 



When Rosa died 
Her father cried — 
Ofttime strong drink had made him rash; 
But Rosa kneeled beneath the gum 
And prayed that he would quit his rum. 
When Rosa died 
Her father cried 
As if his very heart would crash. 

Since Rosa died 
Her father died — 
How grand! he made his peace with God; 
And Rosa met him with a smile 
Where no saloons can be the while 
The Savior reigns; 
And on those plains 
No drunkard ever more can trod. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 99 



WHY SHOULD WE FEAR TO DIE? 

(John 5:28,29; 11 125.) 
Why should we fear to die? 

Life's battles would be over then ; 

Xo anxious care would tire the brain, 

Xo dread disease would weary us; 

God's promises are cheering us. 
Why should we fear to die? 

Why should we fear to die? 
To leave this world of sin and woe, 
Where to the flesh the people sow, 
And reap corruption as they go, 
'Tis but a transient home below. 

Why should we fear to die? 

Why should we fear to die 
When all our friends are dying, too? 
This earth will fail, be made anew. 
No mother then will, weeping, tell 
How her poor son or daughter fell. 

Why should we fear to die? 

Why should we fear to die? 
The Savior died for you and me, 
The resurrection offer's free; 
The righteous will be saved at last, 
With all their woes and sorrows past. 

Why should we fear to die? 



ioo POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Why should we fear to die? 
But let me live to "preach the Word," 
To point the sinners to the Lord, 
And help to plant the cause of Christ, 
Opposing every wrong device, 

Then I'll not fear to die. 

Why should we fear to die? 
Should we come back in future years, 
Strangers we would find in tears, 
The tombstones of our friends decayed; 
In paradise we would have stayed. 

Why should we fear to die? 

Why should we fear to die? 
'Twould be the end of graveyards then, 
Of weeping women, dying men, 
Of homeless children and the shroud, 
And hearse, and coffin-solemn crowd ! 

Why should we fear to die? 

Why should we fear to die? 
To die is but a change of state 
For one of love and free from hate; 
Lord, help us walk the righteous path, 
Fearing not this temporal death, 

Or we'll forever die ! 

Stout, Ind. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 101 



THE WABASH BRIDGE 

Good-bye, old covered bridge ! We miss you now, 
And over your charred frame with feeling bow. 
We heard the shrieking whistle in the night, 
And in the western sky beheld the light; 
We left our bed and through the darkness ran, 
And, oh, the winding sheet of flame we scan! 

Your members floating on the river made 

A cloudy pillar, both of light and shade; 

And shooting flames their burning embers sent, 

Far and wide they fell in mourning color, spent; 

A writhe and twist — we heard thy groan and splash 

Into the river with an awful crash! 

You served your time; now you lie as dead, 
Slowly smoldering in the river's bed. 
You saw the day when covered wagons passed 
Under your roof toward the golden West; 
And if you did the traveler's name enroll, 
You well remember where they paid their toll. 

The plodding oxen teams of long ago 

Have gone with loads on sleds or wagons through. 

The pioneer will drop a tear and sigh, 

With him his friends have crossed in days gone by; 

Two generations now have come and gone, 

Both ways you bore them all, and passed them on. 



102 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Your time has seen the forest trees cut down, 
The toiler in the clearing of the ground; 
Then prairie fields and modern homes appear, 
"From east and west you heard the same good cheer. 
You stayed till horse and carriage now must hike, 
For autos, motorcycles and the bike. 

Your post of duty did with beauty blend, 
North and south along the river bend; 
Across the level to the river bluff — 
For glory, just one look was proof enough. 
Trees, bushes, ferns — the bank one living green, 
Or wintry snow with gorge of ice were seen. 

Lovers and sweethearts now will think again 

Of your covert entrance there to "Lovers' Lane," 

Where Wabash sycamores would veil the moon 

While loving hearts would there enjoy a spoon, 

In promenade or ride from ridge to ridge, 

But now they'll miss "the Wabash Covered Bridge." 

In time of storm, when waters splashed and roared, 
You stood, in calm and storm alike — adored. 
As thou hast bridged the Wabash safely here, 
Under your roof we passed without a fear. 
So may we by as faithful life.be blest, 
And safely cross the Jordan to our rest. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 103 



LET US SING 

We have heard the wondrous story 
How the Savior came from glory. 
And, O God, we do implore thee 

Not to measure up our sins; 
For thy loving word impels us 
That we can not be rebellious, 
And thy Holy Spirit tells us, 

Faithful is the one who wins. 

Oh, this world has its temptations, 
Full of snares and aggravations, 
But the gospel of all nations 

Is a cure for every ill. 
And although from God we wander, 
Over sinful lusts we ponder, 
Still he calls from over yonder: 

" I have mercy for you still." 

Oh, how many times we've stumbled, 
At thy providence have grumbled, 
But, O Lord, we now feel humbled; 

Will you hear our pleading cry? 
Oh, be gracious and receive us, 
Oh, be merciful, forgive us, 
For our sins do sorely grieve us; 

Leave us not alone to die. 



104 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Soon this earth life will be ended, 
And with holy ones attended, 
Who to glory have ascended 

To their home beyond the skies. 
When we meet from every nation 
Those who heard "the invitation," 
We shall hear them sing " salvation " 

Love and pleasure never dies. 



A GRAVE IN WISCONSIN 

I stood by a grave in Wisconsin, 

The grave of my dear brother Jim; 
I read on the tombstone the writing, 

It was a brief history of him. 
'Twas only the date of his birthday, 

And also the day that he died; 
His life knows the angel of records. 

I stood by his tombstone and cried. 

I stood by the grave of my brother 

And thought of how short seemed the time 
When James left my father and mother 

And home for a northwestern clime. 
His arms around the neck of my father, 

How sadly their weeping and moans; 
How long a farewell was there spoken, 

Now both have gone to their long homes. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 105 

A soldier he was in two armies, 

The flag of the Union his love; 
He also fought under King Jesus, 

Who rules in the armies above. 
He fought in this army with merit 

The good fight of faith to the end, 
And Paradise now holds his spirit 

Till nations of dead wake again. 

Away from his home and relations 

Poor James had to lay down his life, 
No brother or sister or mother, 

No one but his own faithful wife. 
But God gave him friends full of pity, 

Lord bless them wherever they be, 
And give them a home in that city 

With all who are faithful to thee. 

Farewell, sleep sweetly on, my brother, 

The time will not be very long, 
We can again meet one another 

And join in the "no-parting" song. 
No lonesome graves on hill or mountain, 

No strangers on that golden strand; 
We'll drink forever from the fountain 

The waters of that sunny land. 

Excelsior, Wis., March, 1887. 



io6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



HEB. 13:4 

Who knows the heart of him who courts a maid? 

(I Samuel 16: 7.) 
Whether for love, or wealth, or plans he's laid, 
To steal her beauty (Prov. 30: 19), wound her heart 

(Matt. 5:28), 
Or for a wife, to do her part (Prov. 18:22) 
To help him in his mission (Gen. 2:20). 

Who knows the heart of her who charms the lad, 
Whether her aims are good or purpose bad? (Prov. 

6:24,25.) 
Or will she ever love a man 

And give to him her heart and hand (I Cor. 11:9), 
And share his life's fruition? (Prov. 31: 10, 12.) 

Who knows the pain of a lover's quarrel? (Col. 5 : 13.) 
Forgive they would, but can't forget the broil; 
And hence celibacy so rife 
Has many causes in the strife (Gen. 29: 11) 
To flee the lone condition. 

Bachelor or maid; it's no disgrace, I trow, 

But "man to be alone" is out of place I 'low (Gen. 

2:18). 
"His father, mother, he shall leave (Eph. 5:31), 
And to his wife forever cleave," 

Companion of submission (I Peter 3:6). 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 107 

Old maid! a fruitless vine (I Tim. 2: 15) with with- 
ered leaves (I Tim. 5:14); 
Old bach ! an old dead tree, of boughs bereaved. 
The problem thus of human life (Mark 8:36) 
They never solve as man and wife (I Cor. 7:2), 
Unfortunate decision. 

"As Christ loved the Church, husbands, love your 

wives" (Eph. 5- 2 5)> 
"As heirs together of the grace of life" (I Peter 3:7). 
And let the wife due reverence show (Eph. 5:33) ; 
God's purpose in the marriage vow 

Let both give recognition (Gen. 1:28). 



IF ONLY 



If only in the trying hour 

We'd curb our human nature, 
We shortly would acquire the power 

To grow in moral stature. 
And strong become in Spirit might, 

In Christian toleration; 
And thus contending for the right, 

Enjoy the great salvation. 
But should the carnal man arise, 

Determined on his ruling, 
It need not be a great surprise 

To find a bitter schooling-. 



io8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

If only in self-interest, 

When we would be most careful, 
We should regard our friends, at least, 

And be a bit more prayerful; 
If only from his own viewpoint 

We'd see the matter plainer, 
He might not seem so out of joint, 

Such fool, or near profaner. 
But like us, "made of the same clay," 

We both will have our failing; 
Him nothing owe, but love and pay, 

Nor magnify his ailing. 

If only when "heat, tempest, storm," 

Be in our weaker brother, 
We only would our sentence form 

And help this storm to smother. 
For we're not perfect yet, you know, 

In Christian grace not wizards, 
While we against his heart will blow 

Our cold and icy blizzards; 
Or while we from our frigid heights 

Will lightning flash and thunder, 
With flakes of malice use our might 

To snow our brother under. 

If only now Christ's "healing beams" 
Could melt the frigid nature 

And cool the "tempest heat," it seems, 
And make us "one new creature"; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 109 

If we the Lord would only hear, 

As faithful sons and daughters, 
We on life's ocean need not fear 

The storm or troubled waters. 
If only to those heights we climb 

Above all wicked leaven ; 
If only" as a phrase of time 

Will not be heard in heaven. 



THE JUDGMENT 

When that awful day shall come 

In the resurrection morn, 
Then our blessed Savior's words 
Will not meet with idle scorn; 
For the deeds that we have done 
"In the body," 'neath the sun, 
"We'll receive," his Word has said, 
"Whether they be good or bad." 

Oh, when that awful day we see, 
Where will we spend eternity? 

When that awful day shall rise 
As a light across the skies, 
All men's sins will be revealed, 
Naught of them will be concealed. 



no POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Those who do the Master's will 
For the harvest will be ripe, 

While the sinner, "filthy still," 

"Will be beat with many a stripe." 

Oh, when that awful day we see, 
Where will we spend eternity? 

Let us offer not strange fire 

In our holy sacrifice; 
Hymns and psalms and songs of praise 

Let our adorations rise; 
Let no innovation move 
Between us and those we love; 
All offensive things will burn 
When the Master shall return 

Oh, when that awful day we see, 
Where will we spend eternity? 

"Indignation, anguish, wrath" 

Upon every soul of man 
Walking not the truthful path, 

But in pleasure making gain. 
Woe to those the wine glass tip, 
To those who put it to their lip; 
The great salvation do neglect — 
The awful recompense, how great! 

Oh, when that awful day we see, 
Where will we spend eternity? 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS in 



OLD PENIX 

Old Penix taught the Stringtown school, 
But he was not so strict to rule; 
He tried by kindness in his way 
To bless the school in work or play. 
He'd laugh at the mischievous boys 
And chuckle at their awful noise. 
The trustee heard of it, no doubt — 
He came and turned "old Penix" out. 

The child said " Penix" in that day, 
For "Phenix" was too hard to say; 
He met us children with a smile 
So kind and pleasant all the while; 
We loved him in return, you know, 
And could not see why he should go. 
It surely put our wits to rout 
To have them turn "old Penix" out. 

The school sure had a lively day 

When boys and girls could have their way: 

So when old Penix turned his back, 

Something would hit the wall "kerwhack!" 

Before he could pick up the rod, 

He knew it was a paper wad; 

With puzzled look he turned about — 

But then they turned ''old Penix" out. 



ii2 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Pepper-te-pop, with whack-te-boom, 
The wads were flying across the room; 
He cried out "Stop" to no avail, 
The wads were coming thick like hail. 
The girls were dodging 'hind their seat, 
The boys were standing on their feet 
Just laughing to almost a shout; 
That's why they turned "old Penix" out. 

They made bad faces — funny grins, 
And pricked each other then with pins; 
When in a scuffle, bumped their pates, 
Made ugly pictures on their slates. 
They blacked each other's faces, too, 
With soot from out the old stove flue. 
The teacher hated it, no doubt — 
But then they turned "old Penix" out. 

One day the trustee walked right in; 
Said he : " Such conduct is a sin ; 
Look at the paper on the floor! 
This teacher can teach here no more. 
Your faces are indeed a sight, 
Smeared on with smut as black as night!" 
Sure as I know what I'm about — 
Right there he turned "old Penix" out. 

The school went home, both large and small, 
With feeling of regret in all ; 
"Old Penix" went away in tears, 
And though it has been forty years, 



POETIC COXSIDBRATIOXS 113 

I've learned that love must never screen 
The follies of the low and mean ; 
For if they do, there is no doubt, 
Like Penix, they will be turned out. 

Some parents are too soft in turn ; 
Then let them from " old Penix " learn, 
Who let their children now run wild, 
Who spare the rod and spoil the child. 
And preachers in pretense of love 
Will not the open sins reprove; 
But those who serve the Lord in doubt 
May find themselves some day ''cast out." 
Richmond, Mo., August 8, 1914. 



JUDGE NOT 

(Matt. 7:i-5-) 
'Judge not, or you'll be judged," is true, 
Your judgment will return to you; 
Impugning motives of a friend 
Will find you loser in the end. 
Your motives, too, he'll misconstrue, 
Your judgment will come back to you. 

Fault-finding, "beam" in our own eye, 
May hinder us the truth to spy, 
To see the good that others do, 
Or credit for their purpose true, 



ii 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

And hence occasions for a fuss. 
Such judgment will come home to us. 

Interpret words with charity, 
A brother may have written thee ; 
If then his meaning you can't see, 
No doubt he will explain it free. 
Such confidence in him may prove 
The winning of a brother's love. 

Rebuking men for doing wrong 
And making loyalty their song, - 
While they with secret cliques and clans 
Will organize and all join hands, 
Swearing, mocking rites, they claim. 
Their judgment will come home to them. 

Men hide their sins from living men, 
In others, still condemn the sin; 
They thus continue for a while, 
Smoth'ring conscience, forcing smile, 
Faithless in little or in much, 
The judgment will come home to such. 

Good men may suffer here the shame, 
While conscious they are free from blame 
With justice, a forbidden word, 
Both sides in question be not heard. 
Important facts kept out of sight, 
The Judgment will bring all to light. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 115 

A "mote" in brother's eye is small, 
Suspicion makes it large and tall ; 
Provoking judgment's bitter cup, 
Will fill his eye completely up. 
He then will say you're false, not true, 
Your judgment will come home to you. 

Religious neighbors we renounce, 
Against them judgments will pronounce, 
Because they stand on human ground, 
And in their doctrines are not sound. 
Ecclesiastic rule won't do, 
Take heed this don't come home to you. 

Of all the follies here below, 
Our reaping shall be as we sow ; 
And as we " measure" other men, 
They, too, will "measure us again." 
Do right and trust God's promises, 
Then Judgment is no dread to us. 

Oh, God of mercy, now we pray! 
In Jesus' name, hear us this day; 
May we be "slow to speak, to wrath, 
And swift to hear" thy Word till death. 
Repent and pray, our sins confess — 
That judgment may not come to us. 



n6 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



K. OF P. BULL WRESTLER 

Did Pythias or Damon ever dream of such a time 
As 'pears upon the posters and as noticed in this 

rhyme ? 
Did they ever both together think our nation's day 

to be 
An occasion for the foolish and the giddy revelry? 
Does the order of their honor think the patriot a fool 
To disgrace our independence in a wrestle with a bull ? 

Is the order so refining, or the people all so green, 
That a special invitation to behold the awful scene 
Must be sent unto the ladies to improve their modest 

taste ? 
Is it there our wives and daughters must a higher 

model cast? 
Then, if so, it is no wonder for their patronage they 

pull, 
To witness the great Leon in this wrestle with a bull. 

Can the Christian in devotion go with joy to such a 

place ? 
Can he pray to God Jehovah, "Give the wrestler 

strength and grace"? 
And in earnest can he supplicate for all the people 

there ? 
Will they ever think to open such occasion with a 

prayer ? 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 117 

Will they ask the God of heaven just to give one 

downward pull 
And help this noble K. of P. in his wrestle with a 

bull ? 

Do they think they would be better, in the holy life 

advance, 
To see the horses running or to see the merry dance? 
Can they see a plain connection, if to save their very 

soul, 
Where they catch a pig so greasy, or to climb a soapy 

pole? 
To remember independence, must we all act like we're 

full, 
And consecrate our honor to a Knights of Pythias 

bull? 



SUNSHINE AND SNOW 

What is whiter or brighter, wherever we go, 
Than the morning sunlight on the beautiful snow? 
The earth covered over with its carpet of white, 
Will glisten like silver in the morning sunlight. 
It covers the fences and the bushes galore, 
Forest, mountain and hillside are all whited o'er. 
Gaping gulches so ugly and all winding roads, 
The homes of the wealthy and the humble abodes, 
The background of forest and the fields far and wide, 
The snow is impartial, it will everything hide. 



n8 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

So the mercy of God and his love to bestow 
But reminds me somewhat of the beautiful snow. 
With our sins covered over and hidden away, 
" No more be remembered," as the prophet did say ; 
" Though your sins be as scarlet," like crimson aglow, 
" I will wash you and make you as white as the snow." 
We then walk in sunlight, in the sunlight of love, 
Rejoicing and hoping for the glories above. 
In such a life is really more beauty, I know, 
Than the morning sunlight on the beautiful snow. 
BarrackvillE, W. Va., February, 1913. 



GROVER HURLEY'S SHAVE 

His face was black and stubby with a beard; 
As he watched me strop the razor, never feared. 
He seated in a rocker in a room, 
With the meekness of a sheep to meet his doom. 

He did not speak his rather, 

As I slathered on the lather, 
But sat as still and silent as the tomb. 

I took hold of his ear and gave a scrape, 
He twisted up his mouth in awful shape; 
I tilted back his chin to get a view, 
To plainly see what I was cutting to. 
I heard an inward groaning 
And a low and painful moaning; 
I knew I'd make him glad when I was through. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 119 

The razor seemed to give an awful pull; 

Grover sighed like he thought the edge was dull ; 

I slapped the razor on the strop again, 

Hoping, then, that we might reduce the pain. 
Dry Canadian thistles 
Or a patch of tough hog bristles, 

Would help to make my task to you more plain. 

To shave his upper lip was sure a task; 
"Just grin and bear it" now is all I ask. 
A tiny little stream of blood now flows; 
I took a little chip from off his nose. 

On the lip I can not linger, 

So I held it with my finger; 
I scraped and sawed ; from his eyes the water flows. 

At last we're done and all was in a hush, 
Except the clearing of the underbrush; 
While o'er his face I went with greater pains, 
He did not have so many writhes and strains. 
"Many thanks!" was his thanksgiving; 
He was thankful he was living. 
'I'll not forget this shave while life remains!" 

The point : Prepare for any work you do, 
Preach, shave, farm or clerk, credit due to you ; 
If you will but observe the "safety" rules, 
Go at your work with good and sharpened tools; 
Be competent and put to shame the fools 
Who scorn the learning of practical schools. 



120 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



GOD'S WORD, THE CHURCH AND HOME 

Where would we be without these three, 

God's Word, the church and family? 

The Bible in its rightful place 

Will teach and bless the human race. 

The marriage vow would sacred be, 

The source for pure society. 
"The church" for aged and the youth, 
"Support and pillar of the truth." 

Our origin we plainly see 

And road to our safe destiny. 

Oh, then, let all believers come — 

Keep pure God's Word, the church and home. 

To judge the future by the past, 

How long, guess you, this world will last? 

What will the next invention be 

On earth, in air, or rolling sea? 

Electric power even now 

Can run the mills, the cars and plow ; 

It takes the news around the earth 

Of business, troubles, crime and mirth. 

It takes your photograph and talk, 

And makes the moving picture walk ; 

It gives us light, and warmth, and power, 

And new surprises every hour. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 121 

With genius, power and intellect, 
Does man not still his soul neglect? 
Does he not all his wisdom scan, 
To patent God's salvation plan? 
Or is he not indifferent, 
And never does of sins repent? 
He lives "by sight" of earthly things 
And "to the moles and bats" he slings 
The message of redeeming love, 
The Gospel from our Lord above. 
The truth will not investigate, 
"The Church of Christ" he scorns with hate. 

The future of our boys and girls 
A dark and mystic scroll unfurls; 
For who can read "the yet to be" 
With all the help of what we see? 
The pleasure madness of the hour, 
The love of money's grafting power. 
Rome rules the Bible from our schools, 
And ranks the Protestant with fools; 
The Protestant is zealous, too, 
With selfish parties not a few ; 
Divided, they each other fight, 
On God's W r ord they will not unite. 

The schools are drifting with the tide, 
From common sense they go aside. 
The "evolution" of the race, 
From monkey and baboon they trace; 



122 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

From little wiggle tails and frogs, 
From lizards crawling on the logs! 
Their so-called science never can 
Admit that "God created" man. 
Or that this earth, once " empty, void," 
Was made by him one grand spheroid; , 
Or moon and stars which circle 'round 
Were in the same creation found. 

For silly "evolution's" sake 
The Bible is to them a fake ; 
To them the "holy men of old" 
Were only preachers trained and bold 
To carry out some deep-laid scheme, 
To fool the ages with a dream. 
They lack "the missing link" to fit, 
Yet smart men gap and swallow it. 
They laugh the Christians in the face 
Who trust in God's redeeming grace! 
Their life and teaching fairly suits 
To class themselves with other brutes. 

The secret empire gathers in 

The mystified of every kin; 

To many mystic shrines they move 

While looking for "the lodge above." 

They gain in strength by building halls, 

Enchant with revelry and balls ; 

Processions proud and mocking rite 

The devil and his dupes delight. 

They rob the church, their badges flare, 

While all join in "the Christless prayer." 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 123 

Christless are they; should you insist, 
You may be dubbed "a specialist." 

Two hundred thousand boys, we hear, 
Are filling drunkards' graves each year; 
The daily papers show, each page, 
"The white-slave traffic" on the rage. 
While broken-hearted mothers weep, 
The voters seem to be asleep ; 
They honor party demagogues 
And vote to please the money hogs. 
And thus this awful story runs 
Of ruined fathers, fallen sons; 
And daughters, once so fair and pure, 
Are blighted by vice demon's lure! 

These many evils, others, too, 
Conspired against the chosen few 
Who would from all corruption free, 
Keep sacred home and family; 
Keep also pure the blood-bought Church, 
Though sinners may their name besmirch; 
'Contending earnestly for the faith," 
Keep calling for "the Lord thus saith." 
They bar religious traps of Rome, 
Mark well the source from whence they come; 
They are not bound by human plan 
Nor resolutions made by man. 

The family and the church must be 
Our only hope to keep us free 



i2 4 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

From institutionalism's snares, 
"Renewed, transformed," as Paul declares. 
Let parents train their children, then. 
Nor " spare the rod " because of pain ; 
Let churches train their members, too, 
To do aiight the work they do. 
Two institutions so divine 
Can but make up the royal line, 
Make safe from Satan's vain decoys 
The future of our girls and boys. 



THE RED WHEELBARROW 

My father made a wheelbarrow, 

And painted it all red; 
But it wore out, to my sorrow, 

As if some friend was dead. 
Of all the useful articles 

I've handled in the past, 
Of whole piece or in particles, 

Not one has so impressed 
As this old red wheelbarrow 

My youthful strength to test. 

I hear it now go whistling 
With wear, for want of oil, 

The broad steel tire goes glistening 
While in my daily toil. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 125 

The wheelbarrow goes glimmering, 

I hear its creaking song; 
Old Time our life is simmering, 

To death we rush along. 
In mind we bring each useful thing. 

Wheelbarrow in the throng. 

It was not built in hopper style, 

Nor was it like a scoop ; 
'Twould hold a barrel or fodder pile, 

Or good-sized chicken coop ; 
Or with two boys or girls or child, 

I'd wheel them with a whoop. 
Sometimes I took a ride the while 

Some other boys were there, 
With dimpled girls of winning smile, 

Black, gold or wavy hair. 

We then could put broad sideboards on 

To gather hickory nuts, 
Or when we had rail-splitting done, 

I'd wheel the wooden gluts. 
I wheeled the apples from the ground 

Near to the cider press ; 
Wheeled ashes for the trees around, 

I always kept the pace ; 
Wheeled beechwood, ash, oak, hickory sound, 

To fill the old fireplace. 

When not in use, stood by the door, 
Just for my work, perhaps, 



126 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

To wheel firewood, backlogs galore, 

From woodyard to the steps. 
I noted this old friend's decay, 

A spoke broke from the wheel ; 
Both leg and handle broke one day, 

I wheeled and it would reel. 
I spliced it, then, to make it stay; 

How anxious I did feel ! 

But time was telling on it bad, 

Its sideboards came apart; 
It fell to pieces. I was sad 

And loath from it to part. 
Good-bye to you, old wheelbarrow ! 

I'll not forget the joys 
Nor pleasures you went with me through. 

With happy girls and boys; 
They all, like you, have left me, too, 

In sad refrain I poise. 

The old fire hearth has given place 

To stove or fashioned grate; 
No more does worming rail fence grace 

The farm that's up to date. 
Electric autos swiftly pass 

The slowly-plodding team; 
The water wheel's displaced, alas! 

With gasolene and steam. 
Old boys and girls sleep 'neath the grass, 

This life is like a dream. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 127 

The woodland now is cleared away 

And changed to prairie fields, 
The willow swamp, with flowers gay, 

No more wild berries yields. 
Old Time is wheeling us away, 

The wheelbarrow is gone. 
But let us do as well to-day 

As this old friend has done, 
Then, when our bodies must decay, 

Our victory will be won. 



OUR MOTHER 

Our dear mother now is creeping 

Near the age of seventy-nine; 
And her children feel like weeping 

When they mark her sure decline. 
Late I stopped at the old home place, 

And I walked about the farm; 
There, with solemn and with slow pace, 

I reviewed with some alarm 
Many swiftly-flying minutes 

Of my now departed joy. 
With the work and pleasure in it, 

When the writer was a boy. 

Viewed the marks of the foundation 
Where the old log house once stood ; 

And the woodpile's near location, 
Where I chopped the winter's wood. 



128 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Near the well, with curbing oaken, 

Though it now is all filled up, 
I stood, with my feelings broken, 

Drank in mind the flowing cup. 
When our mother, lithe and active, 

With the strength of pioneer, 
She would make our home attractive, 

And she was our overseer. 

Here she nursed our clear old father 

All of six long, painful years ; 
And she buried precious children — 

She was often found in tears. 
Here she read to us the Bible, 

And commended us to God, 
And insisted on our walking 

In the path our Savior trod. 
Mother now is old and feeble 

And her race is almost run ; 
In a halo full of glory 

Soon will be her setting sun. 

Oh, my mother, how she loved me! 

How I was her pride and joy! 
Though in discipline reproved me 

When inclined a wayward boy. 
And so now I love to praise her 

For her strictness of the past, 
When I in my sinful pleasure 

Would her heart gloom overcast. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 129 

Now all honor to our mother, 

With the goodness, patience, love, 

Here on earth we'll find no other 
Who will such forbearance prove. 

Since we have faced life's battles, 

Heard the clash of human wills, 
'Mid the conflict's roars and rattles, 

Oft our soul with sorrow fills. 
Then I long for you, oh, mother ! 

Let my head rest in your lap, 
There my sobbing grief to smother 

Like I was a little chap. 
For I love you now, oh, mother, 

More than in the former days, 
And though married to another, 

I will ever sing your praise. 

BarrackvillE, W. Va., February 4, 191 3. 



CONSIDERATIONS 

When lonely or in crowded throngs, 
Some people see their neighbor's wrongs ; 
Their own faults they would fain excuse 
While they their neighbor must abuse. 
They write and talk it far and wide, 
To friend and foe on every side. 
The neighbor, then, 'tween you and me, 
Will count them as an enemy. 
9 



1 30 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Then every scandal they will scour 
And try each other to devour; 
So heedless of their awful doom, 
They each the other will " consume." 
What "might have been" a fault passed by 
Is now their sins piled mountain high; 
They see no good in each to be, 
But count him as an enemy. 

If they had only seen the good, 

And gave due credit, as they should, 

And loved them for their good work's sake, 

They would not give to them "the shake." 

They would not all their friends annoy 

By trying each one to destroy; 

Nor hold their faults as common plea 

For counting them their enemy. 

If some one shows to us our fault, 
Regard it not as an assault, 
But turn and look then for the blight, 
For we may find that he is right. 
And if one's writings cross our path, 
Regard it not a stab to death ; 
Though unkind he may seem to be, 
He may not be an enemy. 

With "many men of many minds," 
Oh, blessed be the soul that finds 
The good in each and every one, 
And makes each virtuous trait his own. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 131 

In pity prays before God's throne 
That Christ may for their sins atone, 
By leading them their sins to flee 
As friends, and not his enemy. 

O God, my soul ! how weak we are 
To scent the follies from afar 
Of other men, and while we, too, 
Have faults and failings not a few. 
Oh, may we be humble as we must, 
In penitence, sincere and just ; 
May we in love and prayer e'er be 
For both our friend and enemy. 

Richmond, Mo. 



WHEN THE PREACHER COMES 

When the preacher comes to our house 
Everything is still as a mouse ; 
The children all, both girls and boys, 
Must cease so much unwonted noise, 
Must get their books and leave their toys, 
When the preacher comes. 

Are preachers all such sacred things? 
They haven't any sign of wings; 



132 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

They laugh and cry like other folks, 
They spin their yarns and tell their jokes; 
Pint if we shout, ma almost chokes, 
When the preacher comes. 

When the preacher comes to our house, 
Mamma puts on her brand-new blouse ; 
Looks in the glass and curls her hair. 
And tries to look as young and fair 
As when my papa courted her. 
When the preacher comes. 

When the preacher comes to our house 
We have more than "jist old souse"; 
We have fried chicken, pies and cakes, 
Jellies, preserves and good beefsteaks. 
You ought to taste the bread ma bakes, 
When the preacher comes. 

Pa calls Lord's day Sabbath day, 
Forbids us all to work or play; 
But ma, she stews, and fries, and boils, 
And lakes, and frets, and sweats, and toils 
Yes, on this day she has turmoils, 
When the preacher comes. 

When Widow Jinks or old man Finks 
Come up to our house, mamma thinks 
They can "jist" live on what we eat; 
No use to put on style and treat 
Them all with manners so complete, 
'Less the preacher comes. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 133 

Why all this partiality 
And useless, vain frivolity? 
That "preachers are but men" is true; 
"Not to be ministered unto, 
But to minister to you/' 

When the preacher comes. 



CONSIDERATIONS No. II 

A beautiful flower stands in the field, bowing its 
head toward the sun, giving forth its fragrance sweet 
and sparkling with the dews of the morning. Full 
of glory, brightness and cheer, it dreams not of its 
untimely death. But, alas ! along comes the plowman, 
and this beautiful flower is turned into the furrow and 
buried from our sight forever. To me there is some- 
thing pathetic in a faded leaf, a dead bird or a wilted 
flower. But my heart is filled with a peculiar heavi- 
ness when I hear of the death of one of my old school- 
mates. Not long ago I heard that George Garner was 
dead. Big-hearted, sympathetic George ! And now a 
letter comes to me with the sad message : " Aleck Hiatt 
is dead." These were both schoolmates of mine, but 
a few years my senior. Aleck was a near neighbor. 
I loved him. He always called me "Thaddy." He 
was a farmer, a hard worker and an honest man. But 
they are gone! How it carries my memory back! 
Peace be to their ashes. 



i34 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



BYGONE CHRISTMAS 

The Christmas day has come and gone, 

With all its joys and grief; 
Yet to the vain it was but fun, 

The day of year so brief. 
The wealthy kin their presents bought 

And gave to wealthy kin; 
Nor once the poor and needy sought, 

Whose clothes were ragged, thin. 

And wealthy kin rich gifts received, 

And lauded " Santa Claus," 
While orphan, widow, are but grieved 

To hear their loud applause. 
The trains are full of travelers gay, 

Intent to visit friends, 
Who're waiting, anxious, 'long the way. 

At depots — journeys'* ends. 

A Merry Christmas and a kiss, 

A handshake and a shout, 
Of flirting dude and giggling miss; 

Bum, sport and worldly scout 
Are sharing each their Christmas joys, 

Unmindful of the cries 
Of hungry orphan girls and boys, 

Nor hear their empty sighs. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 135 

A Christmas tree is all the go, 

And nearly every church 
Will try to have a great big show, 

Among their presents search; 
Of stocking none, nor warming shoes, 

Nor money to buy coal; 
No meat nor flour, and no clothes, 

To cheer the poorest soul. 

Children declaim their pieces well ; 

Their parents sit and weep, 
Of heathen homes to hear them tell 

Across the briny deep. 
The fiddle, horn and organ sound 

With singing in their ears, 
Followed by a merry-go-round, 

Which dries up all their tears. 

The Devil, flesh and world look on. 

They all enjoy the plight; 
They never persecute their own 

Who walk alone by sight. 
They revel, festive pleasure love 

More than they love the Lord; 
God's perfect will they do not prove 

Nor reverence his Word. 

The children talk of "Santa Claus" 
And " Christ, the new-born child " ; 

The people greet with one applause, 
And almost frantic, wild. 



36 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

They make the birthday of the Christ 

Occasion for this lie 
Of "Santa's reindeer, chimney" tryst, 

While sinners 'round them die. 

Oh, loyal Christians, heed the voice 

Of him who reigns above, 
He who made poverty his choice 

To manifest his love ; . 
Who wept with sisters at the grave 

Of Lazarus dead and gone, 
Who for the poor the Gospel gave 

And raised the widow's son. 

Pure religion and undefiled 

Before our God is this : 
To bless the widow and her child, 

From worldliness to cease. 
And as we prosper in this life, 

In lands or gold in store, 
If faithful as the Savior's wife, 

We'll not forget the poor. 

The "Christmas day" has come and gone, 

The "New Year" now is here; 
Oh, let us gird our armor on 

To read our title clear. 
This world is full of vanity 

And " Santa Claus " a fraud, 
But "Jesus born on Christmas day" 

Is "Christ, the Son of God." 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 137 



STRINGTOWN SCHOOLMATES 

Oh, my poor heart, the Stringtown School 

Is being broken up ! 
Our old schoolmates must heed the rule 

To drink death's bitter cup. 
Those happy days of long ago 

Are now forever past ; 
Our joyful spirits, once aglow, 

Are bowed with grief at last. 

The echoes from old Stringtown School, 

From Hayden's blacksmith shop, 
Repairing, by some handy tool, 

The busy farmers stop. 
The ponds of ice and buttonwood 

Afford the skaters sport ; 
The boys and girls when skating's good 

Flocked to this grand resort. 



When bell for "books" was ringing loud 

We rushed from fun to work; 
The platform by the door we'd crowd, 

Both student and the shirk. 
The reading, writing, 'rithmetic, 

Which made our daily task, 
Were spiced with joke or laughing trick. 

Joy? Fully all we ask. 



138 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

Our playground was an acre lot, 

The schoolhouse was a frame ; 
We sometimes in the meadow got 

With Garner's butting ram. 
The seats were made of walnut wood, 

All notched with pocket knives ; 
The teachers treated us, if good, 

And blessed our simple lives. 

But one by one they drop from view, 

Those boys and girls of yore; 
Oh, that beyond the azure blue 

We all could meet once more, 
And in the higher school of grace 

To find that sweet accord 
Of those who find themselves a place 

Forever with the Lord. 
Topeka, Kan., November 29, 1912. 



BE KEERFUL 

There is a line of moral worth, 

And always with sweet savor, 
When speaking boldly of the truth, 

Enjoy the public favor. 
But, then, the truth on " doctrine " lines 

Is not received so cheerful ; 
So when you once observe these signs, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 139 

This talk of "God's great Fatherhood," 

"Man's brotherhood" relation, 
In gen'ral is received as good 

In high or humble station. 
But if you speak of " Spirit birth," 

They will not be so cheerful; 
So in preaching here on earth, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

And some will greet you with a smile 

When preaching "one baptism"; 
But if you dare to speak the while. 

Against their own pet ism, 
Although in kind and anxious tone, 

And with your eyes so tearful, 
Then if you would not weep alone, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

And should the sisters wear much gold, 

No sleeves, or low-neck dress, 
In Paul and Peter's words of old 

The modest law trespass; 
If they your words of warning miff, 

As if they would your ear pull, 
Just change your sermon in a jiff, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

If editors should make mistakes, 
Then we must not dare mention, 

But cover up the wrong he makes 
By granting good intention. 



HO POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

But should another try the trick, 
Rebuke him, oh, most fearful ; 

But when the great ones need a lick. 
Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

If some few Christians start a school 

And teach some Bible knowledge, 
Why not, despite the Golden Rule, 

Just call it a church college? 
Thus raise "a war of men and words," 

Fill hearts with sadness near full, 
But when among assuming lords, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

Against such schools and men they war, 

From week to week they drive it; 
But if the "secret lodge" we mar, 

It must be done in private! 
Oh, horrors! the dread "specialist"! 

Against such sins so fearful, 
This work in public must desist. 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 

Go preach the Word, rebuke, reprove, 

Long suffering, exhorting; 
The time is come when men will love 

False teaching in retorting. 
The fables of the day will please, 

They want their itching ear full ; 
So if with them you'd be at ease, 

Be keerful, oh, be keerful. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 141 

Allowing all the motives good 

On each one's explanation. 
We in our opposition should 

Make clear discrimination. 
Impartial, fighting every sin 

In earnest, and most prayerful, 
And to be sure the crown to win, 

Be careful, oh, be careful ! 



LAW SUITS 

(I Cor. 6: 1-8) 
You have noticed in your time 
Facts as stated in this rhyme, 
Men whose hearts are filled with hate 
Never stop to arbitrate, 

But they take the pains to magnify a flaw. 

Then they will blow, and puff, and bluff, 
Show their tempers sure enough ; 
Xone can for them mediate, 
They are not considerate. 

Xo. But they are bound to settle it by law. 

Brothers in the Lord berate 
Brother, and intimidate 
With their threats about "the pen" 
And their loss of money, when 
They must pay a heavy fine and cost of court. 



142 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

They will thunder out, "The jail!" 
Laugh to see their victims quail. 
Whether in the wrong or right, 
Good men dread a legal fight, 
For their foes the evil only will report. 

While on some they try their bluff, 
They will meet some sterner stuff, 
Who with firm and fearless frown 
Tells them " Go and crack it down ; 

You will learn we, too, have sand within our craw. 
Get your witnesses and proof, 
We will give you law enough." 
Oftimes then the bluff will fail; 
They then will furl their sail, 

Anchor fast, and willing not to go to law. 

Paul condemns this very sin, 

Lawing with our fellow men. 

Brethren in the Church of God 

On the holy Word will trod, 
And in the matters they could easily arbitrate. 

Affidavits good and strong 

Sometimes help to block the wrong, 

And some facts the public know 

Quiets those who threaten so; 
Then they count the cost, they stop, they hesitate. 

Good men sometimes lose their sense, 
And will law about a fence; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 143 

They will pay big lawyers' fees, 
Lose their time in heat or freeze, 

Hurt the church and bring the cause of Christ to 
shame. 

Men will row about a cow, 
And they law from then till now; 
One may pull the old cow's head, 
And one may pull her tail instead, 

But the milk goes to the lawyers all the same. 

Lawing for a meeting house 

Hurts the cause which we espouse; 

Loss of money, moral force — 

Build another house, of course, 
And a woe be unto him who brings the suit. 

People who are dragged to court 

Have no other safe resort ; 

They would not be brought to shame — 

They must fight for their good name. 
Many souls become denied from such a source. 

Preachers, then, should burn with shame, 

While they other sinners blame, 

If they try to bring to taw 

By their threat of court or law 
Any brother, even though he may be wrong; 

They are "utterly at fault." 

Let them take a little salt, 

For the Church of Christ can not 

Dwell in love with all such rot 
As certain as this line shall end this song. 
Gilman City, Mo., October 23, 1913. 



144 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 



THE TATTLER 

No. i — 

Why, how de do? I'm glad you've come. 

How are the folks to-day? 
And have you heard what awful things 

They tell on Bro. A? 

No. 2 — 

I'm sure I never heard a word. 

Now come and tell me all. 
I know 'taint right to carry tales, 

But it's you and I, that's all. 

No. i — 

I do not know but that I heard, 

And maybe it's a lie; 
The people gossip so, you know, 

But, thank my stars, not I. 
I tell it as it came to me. 

He took his wife and went 
To see them dance up in the hall. 

I think he should repent. 

No. 2 — 

Oh, yes, I heard, but had forgot. 

His wife she wore a mask. 
'Tween you and me, repeat it not, 
Was dancing with the rest. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 145 

I think it is so terrible 

The way some people talk 
And tattle, and some story tell 

Of others' daily walk. 
'Tis better never to repeat 

Where one insinuates, 
A neighbor's reputation cheat, 

A doubtful tale relates. 
And I am very careful, too, 

To stop the tattling spell; 
But I am free to talk to yon, 

'Cause you will never tell. 

No. 1 — 

A deadly poison is the tongue. 

Says James, the writer bold; 
And things on which great troubles hung 

Should never have been told. 
Haint Sister C an old blabmouth? 

Don't you believe she said 
That you was such a pouty thing 

And other things as bad ? 
I think she ought to come to you 

And make the matter right. 
Oh, how can one such talking do 

And sleep well over night? 
I'm always careful what I say 

And never stir up strife; 
These secret things should always stay 

Between a man and wife. 



10 



1 46 POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 

No. 2 — 

You bet I will make her eonfess 

And 'pologize and beg, 
And sniff and ask forgiveness, 

Before I'll move a peg. 
Backbiting is her game, I know, 

And slander is her trade; 
But don't you ever tell her so, 

I never would be paid. 

No. 1 — 

Oh, no, I never tell such things, 

For they do gender strife; 
I've got a bridle on my tongue 

To guide me on through life. 



I'M SATISFIED 

Oh, could we have only known 

Of the hidden danger rock, 
Of icebergs under water, 

We would not have felt the shock. 
With eye of faith and watchful, 

Looking to the other shore, 
We, sailing, would have safely 

Passed the foaming billows o'er. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 147 

Could we have seen the danger 

Underneath the rolling tide, 
The cry from midnight darkness 

Would have been " Saved !" I'm satisfied. 

Could we when in the garden, 

Plucking off the blooming rose, 
Had known of thorn so piercing 

Which beneath the blossom grows ; 
Our joys, too, for the blessing 

Of the rain's refreshing shower, 
Are modified by lightnings, 

With their life-destroying power. 
We, then, from love and duty 

Should not easily turn aside, 
But in holiness our beauty 

Should abide, I'm satisfied. 



It takes no little trouble, 

And much toiling here, to boot, 
To cultivate one orchard 

Till it bears the precious fruit. 
For "all who will live godly 

In Jesus Christ" here shall see 
Distress and persecution, 

As was promised to them free. 
But by these " fiery trials" 

We must every one be tried, 
To prove if we are faithful 

And are true, I'm satisfied. 



48 POBTIC CONSIDERATIONS 

J f when we long have trusted, 

And have loved our fellow man, 
Worked many years together 

By the same old gospel plan, 
They then impugn our motives, 

And must hinder so our way 
Of fighting sins in public, 

Which have darkened our day; 
If our words of earnest protest 

They unkindly cast aside, 
Jehovah knows our battles 

Here, and I'm satisfied. 

Suppose they do not count us 
To " belong to the same school," 
" Not in the same class with them," 
"Ingrate," or natural fool; 
Far " beyond discipleship," 
Or "willingness to learn," 
"Have rebelled" and will not bow 

Unto them at every turn; 
"Incompetent" and "coward," 
Everything else mean beside, 
Doing right, with conscience clear, 
We are safe, I'm satisfied. 

The Bible still is left us, 
Just as good as e'er before; 

Opportunity, as ever, 

Opens wide to us the door. 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS T49 

God blesses still our labor — 

Praises to his holy name ! 
Sinners turn to find salvation 

From a life of sin and shame. 
And now we "look to Jesus" 

Till we meet God's glorified; 
In Christ are all things needful, 

Having these, I'm satisfied. 



GETTYSBURG REUNION 

We honor them by pen and mouth, 
The boys of old from North and South, 
Who all with equal valor stood 
For w T hat they felt was right and good. 
The Blue and Gray once in the fight. 
At Gettysburg now all unite. 

O'er valleys wide and mountains steep 
They step to fife and drum did keep; 
They plied their steel and bullets spent, 
While under Robert Lee or Grant, 
Against each other for the right ; 
At Gettysburg they now unite. 

All hail ! these hoary men of worth, 
No longer are they South and North, 
But one united brotherhood, 
United in our country's good, 
For otherwise how sad the plight. 
At Gettysburg they now unite. 



50 POHTIC CONSIDERATIONS 

At Gettysburg, that bloody place, 
Where Blue and Gray were face to face, 
From distance and with hand to hand. 
Like demons unto death they stand. 
The darkness now has turned to light, 
They in old Gettysburg unite. 

The infamy of prison life, 
Far away from children, wife; 
The march, the camp, the hospital, 
The Blue and Gray forgive it all. 
Behold, how pleasant is the sight, 
At Gettysburg they all unite. 

Where smoke of powder filled the breeze, 
Where marks are still upon the trees, 
Where graves of comrades lying thick, 
Where once they marched to double-quick, 
Where there was dearth of funeral rite, 
They in old Gettysburg unite. 

Forget the strife, forgive the sin 
Which all were overtaken in, 
And let the hatchet buried be, 
As General Grant once said to Lee; 
"Let us have peace" and end the fight. 
Like Gettysburg, let's* all unite. 

Those boys are three-score years and ten, 
The same brave, true and valiant men; 



POETIC CONSIDERATIONS 151 

With patriot love-look in their eye, 
Where once they even dared to die, 
They meet the enemy again, 
But Union is their glad refrain. 

'Tis human to engage in strife, 
With anger, hatred, malice rife; 
Forgiveness is a grace divine, 
And mercy justice will outshine. 
God's spirit is more worth than might. 
Like Gettysburg, let's all unite. 

If they who walked through streams of blood, 

In spite of ball and steel once stood, 

For enemies were filled with hate, 

All fighting for their home and State, 

Can now forgive and do the right, 

Why not we likewise all unite? 

They meet in gladness, part in tears; 

The blissful day of many years 

Was the reunion of Blue and Gray 

At famous Gettysburg that day. 

Oh, may they meet through faith and love 

In Grand Reunion up above. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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